Chuck vs the ultimate lie
by Sareth-the-lost-one
Summary: Set in the 2nd season after "Chuck vs. the predator"! - Chuck is kidnapped by Vincent Smith and Beckman sends an emergency team under Casey to find him. But those are not the only people after them. And Vincent claims Fulcrum does not exist. Is he crazy, a traitor, or is Chucks life in danger by the intersect itself?
1. Kidnapped

**Chapter 1: Kidnapped **

***** California *****

The shadow moved fast past the window, but not fast enough to escape the shots from an AR 15. Glass shattered, blood spattered and the split of a second later, the dull sound of a body colliding with the street below was heard.

Before the shock could get a grip on Chuck, Vincent grabbed his arm and hauled him up. "Move!"

The door behind the cracked as the opponents' modified shotgun was pressed into the wood right above the lock. When the blast hit, Vincent Smith and Charles 'Chuck' Bartowski were already out of the window. Under the cover of the night, they made their way down over roofs and balconies to the street. Shots hailed past them. Vincent pushed him out of fire's range and answered with a precise shot. Groaning, the pursuer tumbled over the handrail of a balcony.

Chuck trembled. Whoever that had been, they didn't care about killing him, too! "That was … close", he whispered out of breath. Vincent glared at him, clearly marking him as an imbecile child.

He watched Vincent smashing the window of a parking car. The next moment, he was pushed inside and remotely wondered how Vincent was able to start the engine. He had heard that modern cars wouldn't be that easily to hot-wire like in former times. Obviously, that guy had his resources! Chuck dared to take a deep breath. What a crazy day! He had seen a lot of those since the intersect had been loaded into his brain, but this one was on its way to the top! And that after it had started so perfectly normal. He had been working at his Nerd-Herd-desk in the Buy-More, had helped some kids with their x-box until he got a call to fix a computer problem in the suburb. He arrived there whistling his favorite song. Outdoor jobs were a good thing; he liked that kind of work. Only this time, the problem turned out to be the barrel of a 9mm gun with suppressor, pointed at him by none other than Vincent Smith.

His hopes that Sarah and agent Casey would catch up with him and free him quickly crashed when his kidnapper drained his GPS equipped watch in the toilet. Now Chuck could only hope someone would miss him, put the clues together and miraculously find him. However, Vincent was awfully good in covering their tracks! They switched cars three times until they ended up in the middle of nowhere around midnight. From there, they walked what seemed to be miles until they arrived at a rotten trailer. Chuck felt like dead. Vincent seemed to run on adrenalin and water. He opened the squeaking door, gestured his hostage inside.

In the flashlight's shine, Chuck discovered some army style metal boxes – and computer equipment that made his jaw drop in surprise. Vincent opened one of the boxes, retrieved a package and threw it in Chuck's direction. Clothes. Without another comment, Vincent undressed himself and changed into a dark colored combat gear with bullet proof vest. Its pockets held a preassembled survival kit plus ammo clips. The whole time, his H&K remained within reach and Chuck knew better than to try anything. And besides, whereto was he supposed to run? Nonetheless, he wanted to speak out. "I'll never betray my country to Fulcrum!" That sounded brave, at least. But he wasn't Casey. He still had that nasty lump in his stomach!

And Vincent wasn't impressed at all. "Fulcrum doesn't even exist", he answered and focused on another box. He took out a propane heater and placed a pot over it. Chuck wondered if the other man tried to make a joke – an option he discarded quickly -, tried to trap him into saying too much or if he was crazy. For now he didn't want to settle for anything. He just wanted to stay alive.

Chuck was slightly taller than Vincent and so the sleeves and trousers of the new clothes were a bit too short, making him feel like the lanky teenager from ten years ago. The food and coffee Vincent had prepared from army rations didn't taste as good as the meals his sister used to cook, but his hunger was calmed. While eating, he eyed the computers stacked into the place and mused about a possibility to send Sarah a message.

Hours stretched. Chuck lied on the bed in the back of the trailer, only inches away from one of the computers and pretended to be asleep. And he had a hard time not to do so in reality! From time to time, he shot a glance to Vincent, very cautiously, of course. His kidnapper sat directly behind the door, gun in his hand. He seemed to be asleep, after all. Well, he was a human being, wasn't he? Slowly, Chuck rose, waited again. Vincent didn't move.

Chuck felt sweat drop over his forehead and wet the back of his shirt. He was shaky. And his heart, did it not hammer loud enough to wake the enemy?! _Yes_, he thought, _Casey is right, I'd surely make a lousy agent. But then, I never wanted that! No one asked me!_ He had almost reached the first computer. Its little lights communicated that it was under power, probably in standby. Yet a little further! Vincent? The dark silhouette at the door didn't move. Chuck stretched his hand, hovered one last moment over the keyboard, held his breath. The enemy still didn't react. Good. Now … the index finger down onto the keyboard. Slowly… The screen sprung into life. It was a Linux machine. The Email program was right -

A faint click made him freeze, his hand in mid air. "Now what do you think you're doing?"

Chuck swallowed. "Online game?" He whispered not very convincing. "I was… uh… kinda … bored."

"Very funny." Vincent grabbed him by his shoulder and swung the stool around. His H&K poked onto Chuck's chest.

"You won't kill me. You need me."

"Smart kid." With a short move of his head, he signaled his hostage to get away from the computer. "What will kill you is the thing in your head. But don't worry; you'll have lost your senses long before that happens. – Show me your hands!"

Before Chuck could react, he was cuffed and attached to one of the metal boxes. That hadn't been too great an idea! He racked his brain how to contact anyone or how to leave a trace, but couldn't come up with something. In the meantime, Vincent was doing whatsoever on the computer. From his position, Chuck was not able to decipher anything, besides the screen was half covered by his enemy's back. Then another screen was switched on, covered with symbols and lines like in the inside of a chip. It was almost hypnotic. What the heck was Vincent doing? Chuck the nerd thought it very interesting. Chuck the prisoner was afraid. Then, all of a sudden, a short beeping alert signal sounded and on all the screens two words announced "erase complete". Vincent stood up, freed Chuck and shoved him out of the door. "Get moving!"

Easy said! The terrain was wild; full of bushes and stones. Three steps ahead, Chuck stumbled down on his knees.

"Have you never done moving in the dark in your Boy Scout time?!" Again, he was grabbed and pushed along. A second later, a bright explosion lit the surroundings, taking the trailer with it. It awfully looked as if Charles Chuck Bartowski should get a crash course in Boy Scout skills. And Vincent didn't seem to be a particularly patient teacher.

***** Washington – DNI *****

It had been the worst morning after the worst night imaginable for General Beckman. First there had been a major security breach in an ongoing operation in the Middle East, then they had lost contact to a NSA-network and then, on top of all, the intersect had been reported missing. She always thought about it that way. "The intersect", not Charles Bartowski. That made it much easier to deal with possible unpleasant decisions. She couldn't allow any emotions to mix with her work.

Agent Casey had no clue, and agent Walker neither. The intersect's trace was lost shortly after Burbank. Knowing Chuck and his recent actions it maybe was possible he had simply gone to search for Orion himself. But the more logical explanation was that Fulcrum got him. Beckman had no illusions about an untrained civilian resisting torture methods as they were used by Fulcrum. If they couldn't get the intersect back very soon, only one other option remained: terminate him, before the knowledge fell into hostile hands! After making all the necessary arrangements, Beckman called in a team of specialists for emergency briefing. Casey was part of it; she trusted him and his abilities very much. She wasn't so sure concerning that CIA-agent Walker. She seemed somewhat … reluctant in following orders, when it came to the intersect. Still she was part of the emergency team as well, but Beckman had posted Casey as her guardian.

The general inhaled deeply, stood up, adjusted her uniform and headed toward the meeting room in the underground.

***** Somewhere in the United States *****

The room was plunged into darkness and the voice scrambler made it impossible to recognize anyone of the persons in this chamber. But one thing shone through: they were worried.

"Vincent has the asset, and the asset will lead us to Orion." A female voice.

"We can't be sure of that." A male voice.

"Vincent has never failed us. No one ever came that close to Orion."

"He's hiding something." Another male voice.

"I don't care about the skeletons in his closet, as long as he's delivering Orion."

"The project is in a critical phase. We can't afford any deviations."

***** Somewhere in California *****

The loud obnoxious Heavy Metal beats smashed down on the dirty street and the two persons standing there in a corner. The smoke of a cigarette rose into the air, while they spoke with hissed, angry words.

"Idiots, complete idiots! The best hired guns, eh?"

"The bastard was prepared."

"Of course he was! Did you think you would deal with a vegetable from the special care home?! You could've compromised the entire mission!" The cigarette landed on the ground and was stomped out.

"I'll get on his tracks".

"The fuck you'll do!" Given the music, the suppressor wouldn't have been necessary to muffle the sound of the shot. The other man sank backwards, hands pressed against his chest. The killer kicked him down and walked away fast. "I'm doing that myself!" The street lights washed over the hard face of a middle aged woman.


	2. The hunt begins

Chapter 2 The Hunt begins

***** Southern California / NSA-Regional Bureau *****

Down in the armory, Agent Casey had finished his impressive fighting gear with a fifth firearm. Sarah, sitting next to him on the desk and a backpack in front of her, shook her head. "You can't DO that! We talk about Chuck here, a … a friend!" She didn't dare to say that in General Beckman's face or in the presence of the rest of the team, but now, to Casey, she had to speak up!

He looked at her. "We have our orders. If you have a problem with this assignment, I'm going to relieve you of duty."

Heavens, sometimes she thought he was a robot with a human skin! But she wouldn't help anyone, especially not Chuck, if she was grounded and had to wait apart from any news. If she wanted to do anything, she had to be part of the job! She sighed and then took her bag. Casey nodded and both they left the armory to meet with their team members for the final briefing before their deployment.

…

"We're on DefCon Orange", he announced the ten women and men shortly after. "You all know what that means. – We're ordered to check every hideout we've determined to be in connection with Fulcrum throughout California, and we're required to use all means necessary to eliminate this threat for national security!" At the moment, other emergency teams would be under way in other states. All the security and safety organizations of the United States were in alert. Still, the CIA had not been able to revive the contacts to a part of their network, and the superiors were very concerned. If there was a connection to Chuck's disappearance, it was a bad one.

Casey distributed small packages concerning plans, addresses, meeting points of in the past identified Fulcrum agents. Every member of the team had to report in at a specific time, but basically, they were on their own and didn't know which one of the others worked in which sector.

Sarah took her package and glanced over it. Her thoughts were with Chuck. Maybe it was her fault, what had happened. A bit, at least! She should have provided better security for him, after the events with that Fulcrum agent Smith! She should have convinced the CIA to assign more agents to their team in Burbank! A lot of things popped up in her mind. It had been clear that Fulcrum wouldn't simply stop their assaults after they had failed. Orion might have been killed in that helicopter crash – but the intersect was still…. _Oh no, I'm starting to sound like Beckman! The intersect!_

"Any questions? Sarah?" Casey stared at her.

"No", she replied, trying to look self-confident and focused on the mission like the others.

*****A town in Northern California *****

The sky brightened and slowly, even a small orange shine crept over the rocky ridge Vincent and Chuck were wandering on. "I don't know … how you are… but as … for me, I can't go any … further", Chuck gasped out of breath and simply dropped onto the ground.

Vincent took a binocular and checked the misty valley below them. "We're almost there", he said and pointed to some barely visible roofs between the redwoods. "Get onto your feet!"

Chuck mobilized his last reserves. He had no idea how he was supposed to get down into the small town, but eventually they had made it and hunkered behind a bush near the street. There was very little traffic, as it was early in the morning and it was a remote corner of the State. But Vincent was carefully avoiding any visual contact, and so it took them over an hour to squeeze up to one particular house. It was a nice, blue painted wooden structure and apparently secured for a time of absence. Vincent knew his way around here, but it was just as clear this wasn't his home. He opened the door with a lock pick, shooed Chuck inside, shot a last glance around and locked the door again. He left the shutters and curtains closed, switched his flashlight on instead.

Chuck was too tired to pay attention to the surroundings. He said to himself that it was important to think about a way out, but it remained a platonic wish. His body didn't want to comply. He did not even notice his hurting wrist, when his kidnapper fastened his right hand onto the bed's leg. He fell asleep almost instantaneously and before Vincent had left, he was in the grip of a nightmare resembling the movie TRON.

The kidnapper headed into the adjacent room, which did not only provide a direct view into the bedroom with his hostage, but also computer equipment with three monitors. Gamers were infantile idiots, in Vincent's opinion, but nonetheless, they could be of use. He had picked this home a long time ago and put it onto his list of eventual emergency covers. And right now, the time had come! But first of all, he needed some rest as well. And he had to check the injury this CIA brat had inflicted on him only a week ago. The wound had been healing nicely, but the doctor had warned him of too straining activities. Well, the past 30 hours hadn't exactly been relaxing!

Vincent installed himself on the chair in front of the computers and turned it around so it faced the bedroom. Then he leaned his rifle at the left side and placed his H&K to the right. Now he judged his position half way safe and removed the vest, jacket and shirt. The bandage around his upper arm was wet and needed to be replaced, but all in all the state wasn't alarming. That was certainly not what would kill him! He fetched new material from the bandage kit, replaced the old one and redressed. With his vest on and his gun ready, he leaned back, closed his eyes and set his inner alarm clock to four hours. He had trained that kind of sleep half of his life; it had come in handy at a number of occasions, not only during his time with the Special Ops.

…

Chuck woke up, and his eyes caught the hands of a clock hanging at the wall. _Aw crap_, it crossed his still sleepy, hazy mind_, I'm going to be late at the Buy-More…_ He tried to turn around. A sudden pain in his right arm brought his memory back. _Big crap… _His gaze came to a halt on Vincent's face.

"Slept well, Bartowski?" He bent down to open the cuffs.

It was crazy that a hitman asked such questions, wasn't it? Chuck skipped an answer. When he rose from the bed, he had to suppress a moan. Every muscle of his body ached and it felt as if he would never be able to cross the room without help. More help than the gun in his back… The scenario awaiting him in the next room made him forget those discomforts. The computer had been switched on, and on all of the three screens unfolded something he KNEW. Almost knew! He stared with open mouth. That was a mind map for a customized websearch like the one he used to find Orion. Only that it looked bigger, had more levels and … _Devin would call it awesome, and he would've been right!_

"Sit down!"

Chuck was still overwhelmed. Whoever had developed this thing, he would've loved to get to know him… Or … at second thought… maybe not. Not if it was that guy with the icy glare and the gun in his hand! He turned his eyes away from Vincent and back to the screens. Images, formulas, paths… The photo of a middle aged man crossed his view and he immediately flashed on him.

_Joseph Winslow Ellington – born 1965 – Georgia State University– NSA – Project Termite –classified- _

He tried to control the impulsive reaction always accompanying those flashes, but could not.

"Who is it?" Vincent asked.

"Ah… I'm still …. Very tired…" He rubbed his temples. Something was not right here! The intersect was a database of gangsters, terrorists and enemy agents! But Ellington…

"Don't try that with me! You flashed, and I want to know, who it was! This guy there? Answer, Bartowski! WHAT did you see?"

"Born in 1965, he was at the Georgia State University, got a degree in … mathematics … and … it wasn't much!"

Vincent's gun pointed down onto Chuck's foot. "That I wouldn't kill you does not mean I couldn't hurt you, understood? Now tell me what you saw, ALL of it!"

"Something about a Project named Termite."

"I suspected it…." He murmured.

"What's Termite?"

"You will find out."

Chuck turned back to the screens and felt a nasty headache spreading in his head. He remembered the words Vincent had said to him yesterday. _The thing in your head will kill you. … Like a swarm of termites making their way through his brain? That thought is more worthy of Lester… Good old Lester – will I ever see him again? And the other Buy – More pals and Sarah and…_ He flashed again. A place, or scheme, he wasn't sure. A newspaper article about a terrorist cell…

Vincent glanced at his watch. "Hurry up, they're going to trace us!"

***** Somewhere in the USA *****

The man walked into the darkened meeting chamber and sat down at the table, all the time completely hidden in the shadows, as usual. The anticipation of the others was palpable; nonetheless he took his time before he started to talk. He had good news.

"Vincent reported in. He said he'd need a pick up at the following coordinates."

"The question is: will he lead us to Orion?" another voice answered him. "Vincent is of no importance. Only Orion is. And the authorities are on the move!"

tbc...


	3. Shifting sands

**(I don't own Chuck or any of the other characters in this story, I only own my ideas!)**

***** A little town in Northern California *****

_I have to stop flashing_, Chuck thought desperately_. I must not betray Orion and Sarah and Casey … and everyone! But HOW?!_ More pictures and documents flooded into his brain. He squeezed his eyes and only opened them, when he sensed something cold touching his temples. Electromagnetic contacts! Instinctively, he tried to pull back, but could only go so far with his handcuffs attached to the chair's armrest. Vincent attached more contacts and connected them to something looking like a metal headband, before plugging the wires into a box next to another computer screen.

_Oh my God, this is like in one of those scifi-classics, where some alien monsters…_ "You're not trying to … sorta transfer my brain?" He tried to laugh. This was ridiculous!

"Don't be an idiot, Bartowski!"

Whatever that device was, it created a slight tickling under his skin and Chuck felt increasingly uncomfortable. _He's measuring my brainwaves. He's recording my flashes. _Additionally, he wasn't able to shut his eyes anymore. He flashed several times on photos of locations and people. Codename Termite showed up again. The gun still pointing at his foot left him not much of a choice if he wanted to talk or not. When he finally managed to turn his head and thus rip off some of the wires, he discovered a strange map on Vincent's screen. It almost looked like those early computer games: blue and red lines entangled in a labyrinth, sometimes parallel to each other, sometimes deleting each other, sometimes crossing and creating round spots. The labyrinth was under construction, but now that the transmission wasn't complete anymore, it abruptly stopped.

Vincent shot his hostage an evil glance, but a second look at his watch made him refrain from other actions. This location was not safe for very much longer! Chuck saw him work on the computer for some couple of seconds more. Time in which the black background of the blue-red-labyrinth was replaced with the map of an actual landscape. This made him shiver. No doubt he had given vital information, not only names and locations … but about what? Orion? Or this… Termite program? He had no time to ponder about it. After transferring data to his mobile storage again and inserting a cleaning command into both computers, Vincent took off the contacts. Another look at the watch. He seemed really to be in a hurry! Chuck thought about using this against him. If he just acted slow and clumsy enough maybe that would buy his friends the time they needed to get him?!

While they prepared to leave, he stumbled over his own feet two times and the third time hit his head at the door frame. It really hurt. He shouldn't overdo, probably! Vincent hauled him to his feet.

"Bartowski…"

"I'm sorry. I'm so tired. I'm just not used to march all night and then-"

"Let me tell you what! In case you haven't noticed! Out there", he pointed toward the closed shutters, "are about four factions ready to ice you. Including the one of your FRIENDS! And unless you're moving a bit faster RIGHT NOW they're going to succeed!"

_That's not true; Sarah is not trying to kill me! _Of course he knew that she just might not have another choice. He knew General Beckman's directive. He was too valuable to fall into enemy's hands. That meant at the moment he did not have any "friends", right? And so … it maybe wasn't the smartest idea to fall back into the hands of whomever… Chuck's uneasy look crossed Vincent's.

His lips twitched in a short smile. "I see you got it, Bartowski! Now let's go!"

They left the house through the rear exit and had barely made it past the trash bins into the adjacent yard, when a car parked in front and two men hurried out to force their entrance through the front door.

*****A hotel, temporarily NSA Base of Operations San Diego *****

Agent Casey's view wandered over the files of the remaining members of his team. They already had lost two of them. One had been killed in action; Casey suspected by a hitman hired from Fulcrum. The other simply had landed in jail because he messed up his operation. He would get out eventually, when everything was clarified by his superiors, but for the moment, he was lost as well. Moreover, so far the mission had completely failed. None of their raids and observations had brought any sign of life neither of Chuck nor of Fulcrum. All the places on their list had been swept clean. And the other teams sent out by Beckman had reported the same. Fulcrum had obviously fallen from the face of the earth! The only faint lead was the statement of an old man in Burbank who remembered having seen Chuck in the company of a man who MIGHT have been Vincent Smith. But given the distance and the age of the witness, it was very shaky evidence.

Casey cursed. By now he was sure that the enemy had a mole inside their operation. He suspected everyone except himself. And his tenacity and anger grew with every hour that had passed fruitlessly. He hadn't sacrificed his life for the NSA to fail now, in the face of the greatest danger! Oh no, he would…

The door opened behind him. He whirled around, finger around the trigger of his Desert Eagle. "Agent Walker! That way I'll shoot you one day! – Where have you been? You're reporting in late."

Sarah snorted. Several hours of observation lay behind her. "I'm definitely NOT betraying you to Fulcrum, I can assure you!" She was annoyed because she was worried about Chuck. That annoyance seeped unprofessionally into her job. That wasn't good, but she couldn't help it. "Any news from Beckman yet?"

"I'm waiting for her call."

"Good. I'll get us some coffee. Try not to shoot me when I return."

Sarah stormed out of the room, venting her frustration in a harsh walk down the stairs. She could've ordered her coffee in the diner across the street. However, she decided to need a bit more time to cool off and so she ran some corners further. Near a Wendy's, she halted and inhaled deeply.

"Don't turn around." A female voice, close by. "Listen first."

Sarah slightly shifted her weight and prepared for a Taekwondo-attack, just in case. A few people were in the area, all busy with themselves.

"You've always been bad in checking your perimeter, Sarah."

She knew that voice, darn it!

"All the CIA lack that skill. One reason for so many failures."

"Cadie?!"

"Don't turn, I said. Just move a bit closer to the wall. You're hindering the traffic! – I have some information for you, concerning your missing friend."

Coldness flooded through her.

"Smith has him."

"How do you know?"

"That's one information more than I'm willing to share for free. Do we have a deal?"

Sarah had to think quickly. It was CIA policy to use all potential sources of information. Plus, Chuck was at stake! She was inclined to risk more than usual for him! "I'm not responsible for this operation", she answered. "I can't decide anything."

"I don't want to negotiate my way back into the ranks, thank you. All I want is Smith. For that price, I'll help you find them."

A boy on a bicycle passed Sarah. He reminded her of Chuck. "Okay", she said after a last second of hesitation. "I'll take you back to our base."

The long haired woman stepped out of the shadows, storing her gun. She smiled.

…

"What could you possibly tell us about Vincent Smith we don't know yet?" Agent Casey growled. He didn't like that woman. He didn't like anyone having information he wanted to have. The more, if this anyone seemed to be the human equivalent of a predator cat that treated him like a kid!

"I served with him in Iraq", Cadie said. "I know how his brain ticks. And I can tell you, when he's trough with your friend, you'd be lucky if you can still identify the corpse." She lit a cigarette. Sarah discovered a long scar at her arm.

"We intend to prevent that", Casey answered. "With your help. Right?"

Cadie shot him one of her special glances and they both knew that they would keep a close eye on each other, whatever would follow.

***** Washington / DNI *****

General Beckman had visited and revisited the files of her agents. She shared Casey's opinion about a mole, but so far she had not identified any suspicious points. Time was of the essence, of course she knew that. And she couldn't help but see a connection between the recent events in different countries. Years-old networks of agents were imploding, people were missing. A few of those people had been or were on assignments in a certain country in central Africa, that she suspected to be a terrorist stronghold for quite some time. So she had a lot of puzzle pieces, and with every new one, the system became more chaotic and dangerous. And still, there was no trace of the intersect OR orion! She bent over her computer again, typed in the name of the respective US-ambassador and her clearance – and got an "Access denied".

_Please, not a computer glitch on top of all! _She snatched the phone and called Colonel Stevenson, her assistant in the DNI.

Some minutes later, Stevenson stood in front of her desk and left her not even time to criticize his brisk behavior. "The files concerning Ambassador Harris are restricted. I'm sorry, Madam General, I'm just following orders."

She rose from her chair, and despite her small stature, she could look quite dangerous when angry. And now she was very angry. "I'm your superior officer, Colonel."

"I'm referring to orders from..." He cleared his throat and felt clearly uncomfortable in front of her, "…from the President himself."

She watched him skeptically. "You're saying you're acting on orders from the President that override mine in this case?"

"I'm sorry Madam General. I've got "code termite" this morning…"

The surprised Beckman was informed about a secret agency within her secret agency. It was, as if someone revealed a parallel universe to her. And worse, she just had to accept it, because it was blessed by the last President ?! She swallowed the argument about how she was supposed to serve her country and keep it safe, if vital information was kept from her and some people went their own ways. She tried to focus on the most apparent question:

"What about operation Intersect Recovery?"

"I'm afraid I have to take over."

***** Reno / Nevada *****

It was evening and the parking deck emptied out, when a black SUV entered and parked in a remote spot. It remained there, with its two passengers, as the hours advanced and the night slowly passed.

"How long are we supposed to fucking wait?!" One of the men in the car, a middle aged bouncer-type, smashed the cards down he was holding. "This is the pick-up place. So where's that motherfucker, eh?"

"You should really work on your language, Cliff."

Another curse told him, what his partner thought about such plans. The next twenty minutes passed in silence. Then Cliff pushed open the door. "I gotta take a leak!"

His partner shrugged and took one of the porn magazines out of the gloves compartment. He didn't exactly keep track of time, but at some moment, he realized that half an hour had passed and Cliff was still missing. So he took his gun and cautiously left the vehicle. The parking deck was almost empty. Where did that idiot go?! He'd never find out. A small, but effective arrow pierced his throat, split his carotid. He was dead within instants, just as his partner, who lay some meters ahead behind a column.

…

"Still much better than any suppressor." Vincent lowered the tiny crossbow. "Bartowski, get a grip on you!"

But it wasn't so much the sight of twitching dying bodies or fountains of blood that paralyzed Chuck. He had flashed on one of those guys and … "He was Fulcrum!"

Vincent didn't pay attention to Chuck's astonishment. "Hurry up. We need transportation!" He had seen a nice bike two decks up, and he hoped it would still be there.


	4. Lies and Truths

I still don't own any rights of the "Chuck" TV Series

Thank you very much my reviewers and readers! Hope you still like it!

**Chapter 4 Lies and Truths**

***** Somewhere in the United States / Underground meeting chamber *****

A storm of dissent and silent suspicions shook the foundations of the council.

"Fact is, Smith didn't show up and neither did the intersect. We have nothing", came one of the voices from the shadowed faces in the round.

"We have two dead men. Killed by a crossbow."

"HER weapon."

"Exactly." One of the figures leaned forward. "And if she's in the game again, the whole operation is compromised."

Not a sound was heard, but for sure every member of this meeting had his hand on a weapon right now. The air was thick with tension and hostility. For several seconds it seemed very likely that it would erupt in a firefight. But then, the female voice was heard again.

"We need to stay calm. So far everything is within the schedule. And our enemy does what he's supposed to do. Operation Termite has rolled on."

"We can't strike without Orion OR the intersect!"

"We will have both in time. Trust me."

"Maybe your trust in Vincent Smith is misplaced. What if he has developed an agenda of his own? Maybe he's working with HER?"

"Vincent has no agenda. He's a killing machine following orders like a pitbull. Just as I said before, he made a scheme to lure the police into a trap by faking his death. He'll contact us within the following hours. We have to be prepared, then. If we have Orion, all we need to do is put the plug in. And concerning the traitor … I'm going to send a chopper into the area, and we'll tap into the satellite surveillance. If she has killed our two men, she'll have to answer for it."

***** San Diego / Temporarily NSA Base of Operations *****

The curtains in the ordinary hotel room were closed. The remaining members of Agent Casey's team listened stony faced to the transmission on the laptop screen. Casey himself tried his best not to look too grumpy, but inside of him, a whole taskforce of anger and annoyance was building up. His teeth crunched.

First of all, there was the news that General Beckman had been replaced. He had had his arguments with her before, but always he had respected her and – even more important – trusted her. This Colonel Stevenson, however…. And what was he telling them, on top of all! The intersect was gone? Dead?! A ranger patrol had discovered the burnt out remains of a lonely illegally parked trailer in the wilderness. The routine police check up had identified remnants of computer equipment and clothing with traces of DNA belonging to a certain Charles Bartowski and a Vincent Smith. As Smith had been reported dead already six years ago, the case rapidly had landed in the hands of the FBI, and from there, found its way to the NSA and Operation Intersect.

Bartowski dead? Casey couldn't imagine that. As annoying, embarrassing, pestering he thought this moron to be, he had gotten used to him, somehow. Well, not quite used, but… What the heck?! He just could not imagine him dead!

"…and as we suspect that this whole kidnapping was just a diversion", Colonel Stevenson said, and thus demanded their attention again. "…I declare Operation Intersect finished! At the moment, we have more important things to do. According to lately gathered intelligence we suspect that a group of terrorists plans a devastating cyber attack. The chaos created by that attack might be used as cover for an attack on the President's life. I want all of you to stand by for further orders of deployment!"

…

"Chuck is not dead", Sarah repeated shortly after with determination, when they were back in their own room. She kept her features straight, but Casey discerned the effort behind this. It was not good to get emotionally involved. He had told her so! But obviously, she was deeper involved than he had thought. The cyber attack and the danger for the President almost didn't bother her!

"Agent Walker, listen. I know this is not comfortable, but with the safety-"

"I wouldn't count on it that Bartowski is still alive", Cadie cut in and stepped up to them. "But I can assure you, Smith is." She sat down, threw her hair back and behaved just as arrogant as Sarah remembered. "That burned out trailer, that's definitely his signature. "

"Yeah, heard he's quite good in faking his death. "

"Not good enough for me." Cadie smiled coldly and caressed the blade she had stored at her belt. Sarah wondered what scores her ex-colleague had to settle with that Fulcrum agent. "We'll get him, this time."

"Our priorities have changed, in case you have not noticed", Casey answered and started to check his weaponry. He expected the call for redeployment any minute.

"They shouldn't have. If Smith is alive and Bartowski dead, it is most likely that Smith has what he wanted: the intersect. And if he does not already plan to sell it to the highest bidder, someone else might take it from him and sell it to those very terrorists planning a cyber attack. We MUST find him."

"You're not in command of this operation!"

Cadie shot him a glance, but remained silent for now. She needed them, the much she hated it. She had to find a way to use them to her advantage. Again, her fingers moved over her blade. _Vincent, I'm going to get you this time, and make you pay!_ "Agreed, but you'd be wise to use the information I can provide, if… you want to save the President. Or am I mistaken? Do you rather want to cherish your pride, Agent Casey?"

Sarah observed her former colleague. Cadie surely knew how to manipulate people. She always did. It was good as long as she was in the Agency…But whom did she follow now? She was a poisonous snake and certainly didn't give a damn about the President!

"You want us to defy our orders."

"You want to save the President … and the intersect."

Sarah breathed deeply. Cadie had just poked the invisible knife deeper into her chest, and turned it with grim satisfaction. If there was a slight chance to get Chuck out of this; a slight chance he might still be alive, she would defy orders. Yes. But she didn't like the thought that Cadie knew her so well!

"We don't have a new deployment yet. And until we get one, we can go on the hunt."

"The country is big, where do you suggest we start?" Casey answered. "This evidence from the trailer is the only clue we have. Smith can be anywhere right now."

Cadie smiled. "But he isn't. He has killed two people in a little town in Nevada yesterday."

Sarah and her NSA-colleague frowned simultaneously, hearing this.

"Don't be so surprised. Of course I still have other sources! You'll get your confirmation from the police soon enough." She looked down at her finger nails as if that was the most important thing at the moment. "I know, what Smith would've done next. He will avoid cities; he will walk by night, through open terrain. He's a perfect navigator and was always top if it came to survive out in the wilderness. He will use transportation, but when he runs out of fuel, he'll leave them. No airplanes, trains, busses, anything involving unnecessary contact. I know how to find his tracks… The question is: Do you want to save your President or not?"

***** Meanwhile / Nevada *****

Vincent and Chuck slept under the open sky – that meant, at the moment Vincent was keeping watch and Chuck was tormented by a nightmare. Vincent observed him skeptically. It was too early for Bartowski to develop that kind of symptoms, wasn't it? So this was probably only an ordinary bad dream. He seemed to be a sensible person that could easily be shocked by harsh circumstances or some bloodshed. But if he continued to moan like that, he'd stir up someone. You never knew who sneaked around at night in the wilderness! And Vincent was sure to have half a dozen deadly people on his heels. So he rose, stepped over to the Chuck and grabbed him by his shoulder.

He practically jumped up. "Wa…what is it?"

"Keep your voice down!" Vincent pressed through clenched teeth. "You had a nightmare."

"Oh yep…" Chuck rubbed his eyes. "You were an evil Klingon cruiser commander and about to throw me poor Starfleet redshirt out of the airlock."

"Very funny. – What's 345 minus 26? When was the Declaration of Independence?"

"What?"

"Answer my questions!"

Chuck did, saw Vincent nod and silently thought again that he was in the hands of a crazy guy. He tried to stay calm during the next odd questions. "You're trying to coach me through the next "Get Me Rich"?" He finally asked.

"Only making sure the intersect has not already started to scatter your brain cells."

_Boom. _Chuck swallowed and dragged the blanket closer around his shoulders. "It is true, then?"

"What reason do I have to tell you fairytales? You obviously have enough imagination on your own." He looked around, thinking he might have heard something and glanced through the night vision gear on his rifle. But there was only a little animal scurrying for food.

"Uhm… to convince me to guide you to Orion, perhaps?"

"When we get there, he'll be able to get the thing out of your head."

"I won't betray him!" He wished he would be as brave as his words, and his heart would not pound that frantically! When he saw Vincent's smile, his mouth became dry and he shivered even more.

"So much loyalty for the man who brought you in this condition…"

"It was an accident!"

"No, it wasn't", Vincent replied coldly. "Orion developed the intersect without any thought about its possible consequences. He was simply overwhelmed by the scientific discoveries and possibilities. And when he started to realize the ginnie he had freed from the box wasn't that nice, he just ran away and left others to kill and die for his ingenious plan. He was ready to mess around with other people's brains, but not ready to face the consequences."

"How do you know?!" Chuck snapped back. Yes, somehow he wanted to defend Orion! He was his only hope to get his life back! He had sounded sincere and trustworthy when he contacted him!

"Because …" Vincent stared at him, hesitating for a second. But then, with another little smile, he continued: "… I have the alpha version of the intersect inside here." He touched his head.

_Boom._

"H…ha… that's a good one." However he failed to laugh.

"How do you think I could keep up with you and Orion?"

"So why the bad guys should try to get the intersect if they already had it?"

"Because they didn't know they had it."

_He lies. He tries something… whatsoever… He's totally insane. _"So … uhm … you have the intersect. Fine. Why don't you just let me go, then? I mean, you said it yourself, I'm just a stupid little nerd who slows you down and-"

The next instant, Vincent threw him back, into the murky water course next to their resting place. Their bag followed. Before Chuck could notice the cold mud soaking into his clothes, Vincent was on top of him, pinned him down and dragged the thorny bush above them deeper. It was only then that Chuck heard the distinctive sound of a chopper moving over the field.

Now he GOT cold. He was freezing. It was disgustingly wet and right next to his head swam some little creature. And Vincent had considerable weight. Chuck squeezed his eyes. Why couldn't he wake up from that nightmare?!


	5. Onionskins

**- I don't own any rights on "CHUCK" and the series characters!-**

**THANK YOU, my reviewers and readers! I hope you still enjoy it. **

***** In California / near the border to Nevada *****

Home! Cozy suburbian home! FBI-Special Agent in Charge Ellington threw his car keys onto the kitchen desk and walked over to the living room, where he disposed of his jacket and tie. The morning sun flooded through the windows, bathed the plants on the ledge and the white furniture. It was too bright for someone who had had a long night. Ellington left his sunglasses on while he walked to the windows and closed the curtains. Doing so, he had the sudden feeling he wasn't as alone as he wished to be now. His right hand moved up to the gun in his shoulder holster – but before he could touch it, a blade touched his throat.

"We had a deal", a deep female voice whispered in his ear.

"I'm doing what I can, Cadie!"

"Doesn't look like that for me."

"I gave you the information about the murders near Reno!"

"That's not enough and you know that." She pushed a little harder and cut him. "Smith made it look like it had been my attack!"

The agent thought that then maybe Smith was simply smarter than she thought him to be, but he didn't say it aloud.

"I have THEM at my heels, and I don't need that distraction! I don't care how you do it, but keep them busy!"

Ellington gasped. "I have to be careful myself! I have superiors, I'm watched, I'm-"

"If you don't do as I say you are DEAD." Cadie kicked him forward and he stumbled against the plants on the ledge. "I don't have much time right now. I expect you to fulfill your part of our arrangement … sweetie! So, if you would be so kind and hand me over the data about all missing cars and bikes in the Reno-area?"

"That will take time!" Ellington struggled to his feet.

"I don't have time. I suggest you hurry!" She kept standing there, now targeting a suppressor equipped firearm at him.

…

Not so far away, agents Casey and Walker waited in the 4x4 Cadie had procured. Casey had been busy checking the vehicle for bugs. One did never know… Sadly he couldn't plant any own, because at the moment, they had no access to any monitoring equipment. This was a narrow path they were walking on. He didn't like that.

"I watched her this morning in the bathroom", Sarah said.

Casey shot her a glance from under the front panel.

"I suspected she might use some sort of transmitter while standing under the shower. – Hey I don't need to explain. You sneaked up on her yesterday."

"I checked her weaponry. – And, did she talk to someone?"

"No. But I discovered a tattoo on her left ankle."

"Now that's suspicious." His head vanished again in the shadow.

"It is. Because I saw the same tattoo on a guy identified by Chuck as internationally wanted terrorist only a month ago! Remember? The incident at the pier?"

"Yes. Beckman gave me hell for not capturing him alive. Bartowski had screwed this up. Once more!"

"That's not the point! She has that same tattoo, at the same place! There must be a connection! It's maybe some sort of initiation symbol, a group sign."

Casey grumbled, but finally hauled himself into the seat. "What does it look like?"

"Three intertwined rings and a triangle. Like that!" She painted in the dust on the dash panel.

"Hm… could be anything… looks like an ant."

Sarah wiped away the drawing, having spotted Cadie at the end of the street.

…

Cadie climbed into the car. "I got the register of stolen vehicles." She shoved the printouts under their companions' noses. "This bike has been stolen in the same parking deck where those … unfortunate guys were murdered!" She placed a photograph on top.

"Not bad", commented Casey, referring to the machine rather than to her information gathering skills.

"Anyone could've stolen that thing", Sarah said, not able to get the tattoo out of her mind for even a second. She was starting to have second thoughts about using this woman's help in order to save Chuck, or the President, for that matter.

Cadie overheard her and continued with another photo. "That's the same bike, found near the Interstate 80, burned out. We then have two other reports of missing vehicles within a radius of four miles from that find spot. Both the same day. One is a new truck, and the other a ten-year-old boltbucket. So…"

"We're betting on the truck."

"And you would be wrong", Cadie answered. "Let's have a look at the other data! I'm sure we can establish a possible escape route."

"What did he do to you?" Sarah cut in, looking her directly into her face.

"Smith? He left me amidst a bunch of Taliban fighters, for the start."

***** In Nevada *****

By the time the chopper finally veered away, Chuck felt as if he'd never be able to move his legs and arms again. He was so freezing that he couldn't even stand up alone, and outside the water, the wind made a yet colder impression. _If I die out here, I don't need to worry about the intersect or Fulcrum anymore, _it flashed through his head, while he cowered on the ground – a wet, muddy, pitiful bundle. _But then... Sarah ... and Ellie ... and the Buy-More-Gang..._

"Bartowski, get up!" Vincent stood next to him, bent over his bag with his equipment. A sharp line formed between his eyebrows and for a moment he really managed to look even more threatening then usual. Then his right hand moved into his jacket, pulled out a gun that seemed a bit too small for his hands, checked its functionality and relaxed.

Chuck tried to get out of his shirt and failed, because he couldn't move his fingers properly.

"What are you doing?! Do you want to leave clothing behind as a marker?!" Vincent retrieved a compass, shook it and stared onto it. "We have time to recover two miles from here."

...

The small cave, cut into the rock of the canyon many millenia ago, was barely more than a hole. It wasn't high enough to stand up, but at least it had allowed making a fire without being seen. Chucks spirits slowly returned as well as his body temperature. Vincent was busy disassembling, cleaning and reassembling his armory. Only when he had done this and could be sure that they had proper means of defense, he installed himself next to the entrance and checked his computer equipment. It was still wet. If the storage had been damaged in any way ... there was nothing he could do about it under the circumstances. He'd need a lab then, with sufficient and sophisticated equipment. Carefully, he wiped the memory card and inserted it into the mobile device, then connected something looking like a plasma foil, a fold-out-screen.

Chuck watched and was impressed. That certainly was high-end stuff! On the screen appeared the strange sort of map he already had seen while they were in that house and Vincent recorded his brainwaves. Again he thought about everything his kidnapper had said so far. It wasn't very much; it was inconsistant and plain crazy. It was so crazy, Chuck almost could not believe anymore some half way sane person could make this up. If Vincent Smith was half way sane, of course...

Vincent breathed a silent sigh of relief. The data seemed to be intact. Moreover, finally he had the time to assemble the results of his own research with the input he got from Chuck's screening. A way started to form through the labyrinthic map of information and clues for Orions whereabouts. The probabilistic evaluation of thousands of bits and pieces highlighted three areas. The closest was between the Black Rock desert and the Santa Rosa mountain range in the north of Nevada. So his hunch had been right all along... Orion wasn't that far away... The information of Bartowski had been the missing link! This time, he'd trap him and-!

"If Fulcrum doesn't exist", Chuck's voice reached him from the back of the cave. "Who is responsible that we're sitting here in our underwear?"

"The people who think they are Fulcrum", Vincent answered flatly without looking up. "At least I think it was their helicopter."

"Ah, that makes a lot more sense now!"

If this had been humour, it had been completely lost on Vincent. He switched off the mobile device and stored everything; put the memory chip in some sort of pendant hanging around his neck. Surely no one would be stupid enough to try snatching it from there as long as he was breathing! Then he crawled closer to the fire.

"So, you say you have another version of the intersect in your head, but no one knows, instead you help people who think they are part of an organisation that does not exist to capture the intersect?"

The nerd-kid was obviously eager to talk. Maybe, Vincent mused, he should tell him a bit more. He wasn't very much used to trust other people! But ...Well it couldn't hurt to shock him a bit. Probably made him more compliant and easier to handle! He might still need him, after all.

"Fulcrum was a theoretical construct, developed by the creator of the intersect to test it. It was planted. Fake data, fake evidence was spread. It was prepared ingeniously, thouroughly. It was that perfect, and that secret, that no one knew about the test. People in high places took it for real and started a counterattack."

"Project Termite..."

"Some other people felt that attracted by the fake and threatened by the counterattack that they made a pact to join that chimera. And several members who knew about Termite, got very greedy. The tools to blackmail the world had been given to them, after all. And they used them in creating a computer program, a super Trojan. And the only man who might've been able to stop it gets yellow and runs." He couldn't hinder the disgust dropping into his words.

Chuck blinked and snapped back as he had almost burned his toe at the fire. He wasn't sure anymore if his brain really functioned correctly or if the exhaustion ... or the intersect ... somehow interfered with it. Vincent Smith didn't try to tell him he was in fact the good guy in a serpents nest, did he?! This was beyond crazy! _I flashed on him and his kills_, he thought, just to assure himself. Yes, he HAD retrieved those information from the intersect, he was NOT hallucinating.

"You knew ... so why didn't you inform ... uhm ... the FBI or well, the President?"

Vincent stared at him, and Chuck didn't want to decide if this was amusement or annoyance in his eyes. "See that you get some sleep!" was the only answer.

Chuck curled up as close to the fire as possible. He felt a bit like a character in a role playing game. Used for someone else's purposes. Shortly before he fell asleep he caught a glimpse of Vincent inserting a tiny capsule into a syringe and injecting it into his arm. Probably some amphetamines or Fulcrum's "super-invincible-resurrection"-drug? His eyelids fell. _Wait... Fulcrum does not exist ... I want to wake up ... I'll be late at the help desk..._

...

While the day with its dangerously exposing sunlight slowly went by, Cadies 4x4 halted approximately ten miles from the actual hideout in the cave. The passengers climbed out to check the remains of car wreckage lying down the shoulder. It was an old Ford, but the car they were searching at the moment was a Lincoln. Nonetheless Cadie wanted to examine it. They might have missed a car switch. And it turned out they had, as Sarah found a partly fused little cartridge under the remains of the front seat.

"Poison capsules for a special gun?" She mused, holding it against the darkening sky.

Cadie smiled coldly. "Oh, Mr. Vanishing-without-a-trace has left us something. How very nice of you, Vincent!"


	6. Cornered

**(Thanks to all reviewers and readers!)**

***** Nevada / Next to US 80 *****

The unlikely allies were still busy with the car wreckage, when the siren of a police patrol burst through the silence surrounding them. A moment later, a highway patrol halted next to them and demanded to see their papers. "Stopping and sightseeing in the middle of the highway, pals?"

"We're agents with the Federal Government", Casey replied and retrieved his badge. "We're under way in a matter of national security."

Seeing the NSA and CIA – IDs, the police officer frowned. "Nonetheless, you're posing a threat to the traffic. I have to ask you to remove your car. And what about her?" He pointed at Cadie.

"She's … with us." Only a short moment of hesitation.

Still, Cadie noticed, there WAS a moment of hesitation. Unlike the other times before during the past days when their small 'team' had come into conflict with the authorities while investigating. Did they get second thoughts? Did they become a greater risk than they were of use? She thought that the time to get rid of her companions might arise sooner than later… The highway patrol officer however didn't bother checking any records. Had he done so, he would've discovered the search warrant for a woman with her face. But he let it be, saluted and got into his car. Cadie climbed in her vehicle and slowly steered it down the shoulder.

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Casey asked.

"We have to walk from here on." She drove toward some bushes that promised cover. "C'mon, get your gear!" Smith had to be somewhere in the proximity, she was sure of that. He was a well trained soldier, but a man could only walk a certain distance under those circumstances! While Casey and Sarah hurried down to her, Cadie took out the binoculars and checked the area. Of course, he could've walked down the street for a while, but that was unlikely, as being there he would've been too easy to spot! Remained the open country…

"Anything?" Sarah asked.

"Not yet."

Casey fumbled in his backpack and snatched his own binoculars. He was a thoroughly trained soldier with experience in the field as well – one of the reasons Cadie had chosen him! "There … on that slope … could be footprints…" He magnified, but still it was hard to say if those fading shapes in the sand were actually made by a human. Carefully, he checked for further hints like broken branches, lost items or anything like that.

"Got something up north", Cadie said. "It's definitely a trace. Looks as if something or someone was dragged down into that watercourse." Sarah practically ripped the glasses out of her hands and Cadie indulged a pitiful smile. Really, it was sad what had become of agent Walker, she thought.

"Yes, she's right. There in the mud is a footprint. Clearly visible", Casey confirmed. "Let's just hope it weren't just some kids on a hiking tour." He put the binoculars down. "So let's round him up!"

"Smith probably headed for the mountains. There are plenty of opportunities to hide, there's fresh water… But we have to be careful. We have to be aware that he's probably watching us. Right now, we're in a fish bowl down here."

Casey thought the same, but he hated it when she took over that way. "He can't watch all the time", he growled in response and started to pack ammo and guns into his vest. "You said he would walk by night. So the best time to attack is in the middle of the day. I suggest we move quickly." He gestured to the sun.

***** Nearby in the cave *****

Vincent woke up – if his stand-by-time could be called sleep anyway -, because the fire had burned down and coldness spread in the little cave. But he felt refreshed, that was what counted. His shoulder wound still looked okay. And the data were intact. He inspected their clothes; they had almost dried up in the meantime. Very good. Bartowski was awake as well. Vincent grabbed the other man's shirt and pants and threw them toward him. Of course Bartowski missed the package. Vincent suppressed a sigh. That guy had qualities for sure, but a decent reaction time wasn't one of them. Alone, he would've died days ago already. Half dressed, Vincent retrieved a sealed-in army ration pack, opened it and split it.

"Bartowski, attention!" This time, the package landed in his hands.

"What's that?"

"Uncle Sam's homecooking. Hurry up! We have to get out of this trap."

***** In the field north of US 80 *****

Casey, Sarah and Cadie made their way through the stones and scrubs of the rather boring landscape stretching in front of them.

"I got something", Casey announced after a long time of silent trotting along. He pointed to the ground, where the sand had formed some tiny round shapes of different sizes. "Water drops."

They followed the signs a short way back and realized they had gone in a wide circle around the actual trace, being obviously fooled by some animal tracks. The drop signs continued toward West, not to the mountains, however. And…

"I have another footprint!" Sarah called from ahead. "No doubt, there are two footprints! Chuck is still alive." She was so relieved! She needed a moment to adjust, before she could turn around to her associates. "And it seems they were heading in that direction. What do we have there?"

Casey pulled out his cell phone and checked the maps. "A little canyon."

"Water and cover for the day", Cadie completed and smiled. Sarah didn't like that smile at all.

They needed two more hours to reach the canyon and climb down. The relatively lush vegetation near the water might provide a good cover, but all those branches and leaves were an open book for an experienced ranger. It was good Bartowski was still with him, Cadie thought, because Vincent alone wouldn't have left so many traces behind. But that Bartowski behaved like a bull in a china shop! She guessed that Vincent would have a 'great' time with that idiot! She checked the extent of an area of broken branches and looked around. Ah… seemed they had walked in the water from here on. Not good… Her eyes came to a halt on Sarah, who just glanced up the rocky walls. And there was a gap! Her heart beat faster. She was closing in, she could feel it. For a couple of seconds, she enjoyed the imagination of her revenge. Then she said: "Agent Walker, we seem to think alike."

Sarah's eyes narrowed, though.

"Let's get our trophy."

"Not before I get your weapons." That was Casey behind her, and she was sure his gun targeted her.

"Do you want to weaken our position, Mr. NSA?"

"I just want to make sure we'll still have a position." He stretched his hand.

Cadie smiled wryly and handed him her gun, and then her knife. "Your wish is my command."

Sarah observed the scene and felt uncomfortable. The other woman was giving in too easily. Something was wrong. She was more alert than ever.

Shortly after, they stood in the little cave and discovered to their regret that they had come too late. Nonetheless, their prey had been here! Cadie poked in the ashes of the camp fire. Footprints had been carefully wiped out. But in one corner, Sarah found a button, which Cadie identified as belonging to army clothing. She stepped back to the entrance of the cave, took her binoculars and scanned the area below. They could not have been gone for long… Some leaves moved suspiciously, but it turned out to be the wind. She searched further. Up and down twice and there – a human figure had shown up between the bushes! A shape she'd recognize everywhere in the split of a second! _I got you, bastard…_

But first, she had to get rid of some obstacles that might interfere with her plans! She lowered the binoculars. The fingers of her right hand fumbled into the seam of her sleeve. A capsule with injector slipped into her palm.

"Seeing anything?" Casey asked, stepping up to her.

"Yes." She spun around and the narcotics sat in Caseys chest before he even knew what was going on. Now he tried to grab Cadie, but she pulled back, reacted to Sarah's attack instead. Growling, Casey sank to his knees and desperately tried to retrieve his gun from the holster. But his strength was fading rapidly. The world itself faded in front of his eyes.

Sarah could not pay attention to him. She landed a karate kick against her opponent's chest and brought her down, but Cadie was fast and strong. Within a second, she was on her feet again, fought back.

"You've learned a lot, Agent Walker!" Cadie whirled around. "But not enough for me!" A last combined kick and punch, and then she was on top of Sarah, immobilized her. Another injector thrust into her arm the next moment. "You of all people should have known that I always have more weapons than just a gun and a knife!"

Sarah wasn't able to answer anymore.

Cadie got up, quickly retrieved the guns and the other equipment of the two agents and hurried out of the cave.

…

Chuck limped. Why shoes did have to shrink when they became wet?! However, he didn't dare to take them off, given the terrain.

"Listen? Ah, I think I need-"

Vincent swirled around, stared at him frowning.

"Ah… never mi-"

The next moment, Vincent had seized him and pressed a hand over his mouth.

_I should've known it would be a bad idea to ask for a break…_

"We're being followed." Now Chuck realized he wasn't staring at him, but past him into the bushes.

Vincent pulled back some steps further, not letting go of his hostage. Only one person seemed to be on his tracks, but more could be following behind or closing in from other angles. He had no doubts that he would've managed to sneak away or overwhelm his enemies, if he had been alone. But not with that burden named Bartowski hanging onto him! He pressed his lips together. There was no time for lengthy pondering!

"I did not lie to you", he whispered in Chucks ear, barely audible. "And I did not kill you. Whoever follows us, might put you out of business. Got it?" Chuck nodded. "You'll stay put. You won't move a finger! You won't make a sound!" A nod again. Vincent pushed him down into the bushes and straightened again, his gun at the ready. If he would be in the hostage's position, 'moving' would be the least he would do. So he only hoped Bartowski would wait long enough before committing any stupidity! Melting with the surroundings, Vincent went into pursuit of his pursuer.

***** Washington *****

Colonel Stevenson entered his specially shielded emergency bunker, raked nervously through his hair and checked the time. His face was pale and his eyelids twitched nervously. The last 48 hours had been rough. And two members of Beckman's intersect recovery team didn't report anymore! Had they gone rogue? At the moment, Stevenson couldn't deal with that problem. He checked again, if the security measures were all up. Fine. He remained standing while reaching for the phone and dialing a specific number. Only moments later, he was on a secure line with the White House.

"…Unfortunately, we have the evidence, Mr. President. That terrorist group obviously has access to our most sensitive information and they're planning a distributed attack in different major cities. …. I wish I'd know, it's probably a case of infiltration in the CIA. All the missing agents had connections to Project Termite or affiliate projects. … No, the missing weapons could not yet be located. I suspect they are already or they will be in the hands of Fulcrum. … Yes I know it is a disaster, Mr. President." Stevenson wiped his sweaty face. "Yes, I'd advise to replace the codes of the defense protocols immediately. The nuclear arsenals have to be secured. … Yes, Mr. President, I'm well aware of that…"

That call terminated, Stevenson tried to reach his liaison from the FBI to set him on the tracks of the missing two agents. Some minutes later, shocking news arrived: Robert Ellington was dead. As it seemed, suicide. Colonel Stevenson felt a bit more haunted than before. Ellington had been the head of the taskforce working to bring Fulcrum down…


	7. Bloody crossroads

***** A canyon in Nevada *****

The two opponents sneaked after each other for quite a while. They were closing in on their respective positions but, skilled as they were, managed to evade the deadly bullets. For a brief moment, Vincent had spotted his pursuer and recognized her. Could it have been anyone else? It was fitting, he thought. Cadie was after him almost as long as he was after Orion! So their paths crossed again, and this time, only one of them would walk away from the battlefield.

"Now you're going to pay for leaving me in that mud hole!"

He didn't reply, but a cracking branch revealed his position nonetheless. A hiss in the air announced that Cadie had harpooned a cable somewhere above him into the rock. And despite he moved fast, she landed next to him the next moment, disengaging the hook and firing simultaneously.

Vincent dove under her, whirled around and felled her with a harsh Karate kick against her legs. She lost her gun – but Vincent did the same. The very next instant she snatched a blade and the dance continued.

"Never thought to see me again face to face, didn't you?"

"On the contrary."

Another set of quick movements, kicks, evasive maneuvers. Vincent reached for his second pistol, but Cadie left him no time. She lunged forward – he grabbed her arm. She lost her ground, but her knife slashed his cheek, as he didn't roll aside fast enough.

"Getting slow?"

…

Chuck had not stayed put. Of course not. Only the noise of the ongoing fight drowned his attempt to reach the watercourse. A last gab still stretched between him and the - what he thought – first step to rescue. That was, when he caught a glimpse of Cadie. And he flashed. _Cadie McArthur… Five different aliases… wanted for weapons dealing…Involvement in terrorist activities…Verdict of acquittal…NSA Project Termite… Security level cancelled… Cyber espionage…_

Chuck searched for a hold and grabbed the next best branch. It broke. The sound made him snap back to reality. _Oh God… She's the baddie… _He felt dizzy, tried to get his orientation back online – and saw Cadie snapping up from a half kneeling position. She darted toward Vincent with her knife ready to slam down.

Automatically, Chuck snatched the next best thing coming in contact with his fingers. It was a stone. He threw it and hit the target much to his surprise. Cadie was out of business.

Vincent struggled to his feet. Discerning his rescuer, his brows rose for a second. "That was quite professional, Bartowski."

Chuck swallowed and suddenly felt sick. "W…what if I have killed her?"

Vincent wiped away the blood running down his neck and looked down at the motionless woman. "If not, I'm going to finish the job." He grabbed his gun.

"Wait!" Chuck stumbled closer.

"You flashed on her, didn't you? You know she's one of the most dangerous people around." He pulled back the trigger.

"But is not the police supposed to question her? The authorities-"

The shot ended his words. "We can't burden with her", Vincent replied. "Her death might buy us just the time we need to reach Orion and put an end to all of this! – Now help me to put a patch on this cut; I'm not fond of leaving more signs for eventual pursuers!"

Chuck however had given in to the sudden wobbly feeling in his legs and he simply dropped to his knees. _I've killed someone… or almost killed someone… Someone real, not in a computer game. Am I going to go to jail for this? Oh my God … _

Vincent's hand sank on his shoulder, involuntarily leaving some blood stains there as well. "You saved my life", he said. "I'm not someone to forget that."

"Yeah… I guess you won't let me go as a sign of gratitude?" He smiled weakly.

"That would be stupid." A sealed field dressing landed in front of him. He opened it with trembling fingers. Vincent sat down next to him.

"It's going to be a nasty scar", Chuck said, merely to distract himself from things as _dead _and _much blood, _while he tried to handle alcohol pads and patches.

"I don't intend to win the next man of the year contest. – Tell me everything you have flashed on! Any places? People?"

"I know she was a member of the FBI once, but her security clearance has been cancelled, and that she was wanted for several crimes. She was a member of Project Termite."

"She was the initiator. – Okay, two patches are enough! You weren't supposed to mummify me!" Vincent stood up and started to file through Cadies pockets, while Chuck continued:

"I flashed on a few places, but I can't identify them for now. Streetsigns. Numbers."

"We'll check with my database, when we've reached safe ground again." Vincent stored another knife and ammunition in his own pockets. "Any names?" His fingers touched the hull of a cell phone and next, some notes on paper. He retrieved everything.

"Ellington. … And I saw some faces. A bald guy with mustache, shaking hands with a thin blond guy with glasses."

"Stevenson", Vincent murmured and tried to activate Cadies cell phone. Of course it was heavily secured. "The Termites are finally ready to strike, it seems. That was the reason she was after me that tenaciously the last month. I was the only one that could pose a problem to her schemes. She knew about my little secret."

"The … first intersect? You said, no one knew." Chuck had that particular feeling again to get caught in a maze of lies.

Vincent took a small device from his pocket and plugged it into the cell phone. "I had a weak moment back then." He typed something - obviously to no avail. "I need to get access!"

"I can… " Chuck hesitated for a moment. What was he about to do?! On the other hand, he already had done a lot _more_ today. A little hacking would not make it worse, would it? "Maybe I can hack the source code."

Vincent smiled shortly. Thanks to the swelling and the patches it became a sinister grimace. "It already HAS a hacked source code. Termites use their own programs to communicate to avoid tracking. But – we might be able to combine efforts and crack it." He looked at the paper notes again. For now they were as cryptic as the cell phone. "We need to get away from here first. Let's go!"

Chuck forced himself not to look back, when they stepped down into the watercourse and walked ahead toward the sinking sun. But there was one question he couldn't hold back. One that was bothering him since the beginning. He wasn't sure why he thought Vincent might be any more honest about this than days ago when he had kidnapped him. However, he had to try…

"When we find Orion… what are you going to do? Kill him?"

Silence. A long silence. Only the splashing sound their feet made in the water could be heard.

"I intend to get my life back", Vincent finally said. "What's left of it." That was all he said for the rest of the day.

***** The secret underground base *****

Once again, the council members sat in the darkened, only by singular point lights illuminated chamber.

"The national security codes have been changed according to our plan." Despite the good news, the voice was crisp and cold like ice. "The gates are open to flood the brains of this nation, but we still don't have the intersect! Years of planting operatives and gathering information will be in vain!"

"This is our fourth meeting and we can't report any success to our leader!"

The words opened another wound burning in that secret council already for a while. "He or she should be here right now!" Another member said. "But where is he? We report and what happens? Nothing?"

"Would you have liked it more if the Leader had ordered to kill you, because you're a useless member of this organization?! We can be grateful he tolerates this leniency!"

"We might walk right into a trap of the government."

"So far, the government walked in all of OUR traps! Ellington is dead. The FBI has no ideas how to react. The police are following planted leads into nowhere. Beckman is out of the way and -"

"And Smith is MIA."

The door on the other end of the room opened that very moment and a person stepped in. Clad in robe and mask like all of them, using a voice scrambler. The person held up a cell phone triumphantly. "A message from Vincent. Didn't I tell you he would not let us down? He always gets his prey and brings it back."

"What does it say?" grumbled a voice from amidst the council.

"He has the intersect and we are supposed to meet him at Flat Point Creek, the old Air Force Base, in Nevada. "

"You're sure this is not a trap by HER?" None of them ever said her name, they only referred to her with the pronoun or as 'the traitor', as if calling her name would summon the forces of evil. But Cadie McArthur's face haunted them nonetheless…

"Vincent used the correct encryption with the latest algorithms. We should not waste any more time!"

***** Back in the Cave *****

In the nightly cave, Agent John Casey woke up – and threw up. He couldn't remember ever having felt so shit since that one party at high school. He tried to rise, but stumbled back against the rocky walls. For an undefined time he crouched there, while his memories and senses made their way back into his brain. He heard someone moaning and recalled that he hadn't been alone…

"Agent Walker? …. Sarah?"

Only after several attempts her words became understandable. "…has injected us something…" Crawling on her four, she fumbled her way through the darkness. "Why … didn't she … kill us?"

"Maybe she thought she had and only picked the wrong dose." He growled and rubbed his head.

"No. That's not Cadie. If we're alive, she left us alive for a purpose."

"In any case, that bitch has outmaneuvered us! She's gone, and I bet our weapons with her!"

They both knew that an attempt to take up pursuit would do no good right now; not at night, not in their present condition. They needed to wait for day break! It became tough, torturing hours, especially for Sarah. All kinds of bad scenarios flashed through her head, circling around _what has happened to Chuck?_ To her, it did not make a big difference whether he was in Smith's or Cadie's control at the moment. She had come to know both of them as cold blooded killers. And Chuck was - she smiled sadly and yet full of love at the thought – Chuck was such a unsuspecting child sometimes!

…

They discovered Cadie's body at first sunlight and Sarah thought to know what that purpose was. "She expected us to go after Smith, if she fails." Sarah looked around, checking and assessing the crime scene. Undoubtedly, there were Chucks footprints. So he was alive and at least able to walk. There was still hope! "She hated him that profoundly she wanted to make sure he doesn't get away."

"Had she worked with us instead of knocking us out, we probably would've overwhelmed him!" Casey replied angrily. He couldn't forgive himself that he let all of his happen! He was supposed to be more vigilant, to be stronger to be whatsoever – in any case, he was NOT supposed to get drugged with tranquillizers by that bitch! "We have no way of knowing where they went. And they are probably hours ahead of us. And …" He made a face as if experiencing physical pain. "We are unarmed."

But Sarah wouldn't give up now. "They stepped into the water and continued their way. We'll do the same. We'll find the spot where they left and follow them further. Smith does not seem to know about us – or he would've killed us. This is an advantage we can't let pass. Come on!"


	8. Reunion

***** Washington *****

General Beckman had taken a few days off. That made it a little more bearable being put aside. She did not like that at all. On the other hand, there were security protocols and Presidential orders she was obliged to follow. She would've been the last one to question orders strengthening national security. Nonetheless… that she of all people became the victim of such measures! She shook her head and walked through her apartment, not feeling very much at home. She had barely spent any time here. The NSA headquarters and airplanes were more familiar to her. Eventually she decided to go back to the HQ. She needed something to do. And there were always files and reports she had had no time to look at so far.

Beckman arrived in the late afternoon and went back to her old office. Several awkward glances followed her. She tried to ignore them. In fact, she had not been suspended, had she?! She raised her chin a bit higher. Project Termite might have taken some responsibilities off her, but she still had her daily business! And that she would do, despite Colonel Stevenson!

She greeted the guard posted in front of her door as usual, opened, stepped inside and sat down at her desk. Yes, that felt much better than at home. Her eyes fell on a note she had written two days ago. The name of the place where the police had discovered Charles Bartowski's remains. Still she could not believe that the intersect was… gone. By the way, she had no word from Agent Casey either. What she had was the growing feeling to look at a tablecloth spread over some nasty things no one should see…

…

Two hours later, Beckman still sifted through old files, when she discovered an entry that caught her attention. It mentioned a name: Thomas F. Barnes. The said Barnes had been FBI legal attaché to the missing ambassador. He had reported some unusual activities back there in Africa. The file was highly interesting in the light of the recent events, but – Stevenson had classified it under 'no measures necessary' and kept it to himself. Beckman started digging deeper. She lifted the tablecloth from a big cover-up. It dawned on her, while she found some phone tapping protocols reporting terrorist activities to cause an East-cost-wide black out that was filed under 'no measures necessary' as well.

She acted like the decorated officer she was: she cut out a plan to stop the enemy. An enemy that obviously had invaded their own ranks and was now ready to strike! She had to gather as much information as possible without compromising herself. And she had to find trustworthy allies.

***** In Nevada ***  
**

Still not feeling a hundred percent well, Agents Casey and Walker followed the course of the little river in the Canyon. However, they were sure to be on the right tracks. Sooner or later, they would find traces leading off the water…

A sudden beeping sound disrupted the almost meditative silence surrounding the two people trotting along, fighting against their exhaustion. Casey stopped and fumbled for his cell phone. It ran on a military frequency – the only reason it still functioned out there in the woods! His features betrayed disbelief, when he identified the voice. "General? I thought you were-"

"Agent Casey, where are you?"

"In Nevada. Walker and I are on the tracks of Fulcrum operative Smith. As far as we know, Bartowski is still alive and with him at the moment."

"Listen to me, Casey. The country is in a critical situation, and a lot depends on you."

He straightened.

"I strongly suspect that Stevenson is a traitor working for Fulcrum and that he's involved in a terrorist group planning black outs in Washington and other cities. He's probably a mole planted in the NSA to undermine Project Termite itself. Stevenson has advised the President to alter the National Defense Codes. I need you, Casey. And if Bartowski is still alive, you need to get in contact with him. He might be the only-" The line fell dead.

***** Further on in Nevada / A small village*****

Vincent and Chuck sat in front of a computer in one of the places on Vincent's grid of hideouts. Considering the god-forsaken area, it almost came as a surprise to find a home with such high-end computers! They had plugged in their equipment and Cadie's cell phone. Chuck was sweating to crack it for some time now.

"Hurry up!" Vincent commanded for the umpteenth time.

"I'm doing what I can." From the corner of his eye, he saw his companion insert one of those medication capsules into his injector. "What's this stuff?"

"A neurotoxin. I told you about the side effects of the intersect if it occupies your brain for too long. That helps to keep them in check. For a while at least."

On the computer screen, rows of encrypted data rolled by. "It's the reason you need me, right? Because you can't flash on anything anymore?"

"It blocks certain brain functions, yes. – Keep working!"

"The unlock program is almost through. – You could've told me. Just ask me for help, instead of kidnapping me."

"And had they got their hands on you, you would've told them everything. But the enemy can't extract information you don't have."

"That's … reassuring! – Ah, done! Wow, that's the weirdest source I've ever seen!"

"That's next gen, Bartowski." One of those faint short smiles crossed his lips. "Let's see what we have."

…

Half an hour later they knew that Termite had entered the red hot phase.

"They have used the supposed thread by Fulcrum to convince the NSA and the Secretary of Defense to alter the codes for the nuclear arsenal and the national air defense systems. They couldn't have accessed it with the codes intact, but the system will be down and vulnerable for a few seconds during the implementation of the new codes. That's when they're going to strike. A plan of evil ingenuity," Vincent said.

Chuck rubbed his temples. Flashing on those things was like foreseeing the future but being unable to alter it. In that case, he would have preferred not to know anything! "But…" He tried to gather his thoughts. "The head of NSA is General Beckman, and she-"

"She might not be in charge anymore. And Stevenson is a power hungry, easy to influence creature." He looked around. He thought having heard something unusual. Or was it just the reaction of his overstimulated senses? "Get ready!"

Chuck had only reached for the USB, when a low scratching sound from above the staircase made Vincent snap around and fire. Wood from the handrail split. He saw his opponent – a dark clad male – pull back. Crossfire ripped through the interior. Shooting both handed, Vincent made his way behind the couch. "Bartowski, down!"

He already was under the desk, but the chair in front of him provided only a pitiful cover. It was from this position he discovered Sarah's blond head. It was the sighting of an angel for him! "Sarah!" He almost hit his head at the desk above him. "Sarah, it's me! I'm okay! Don't shoot!" Slowly, he rose, hands spread to the side. "Don't shoot!"

"Bartowski, what the hell you're doing?!" Vincent hissed. Chuck stood right in his line of fire targeting the dark figure on the staircase.

"Chuck?"

"Walker, get out of the way!" Casey was just as annoyed as Vincent. "He's compromised! You can't trust him!"

"Please don't shoot!" Chuck moved sideward, hands still up. "We have to work together! We have to save the country!"

Hearing this, Casey crunched with his teeth. It sounded that awkward from Bartowski! Did it sound the same when he had said similar things?!

"Casey, please listen to me! Put the gun down! Vincent?" Chuck felt sweat running down his back. Never had he been very strong in diplomacy, in convincing others from whatsoever. He was just that nerd – kid… Something in his head clicked. _Nerd kid. _He'd do something very nerdy! A fast movement and he had the little USB in his mouth.

"Put the guns down and listen or I'll swallow those data!"

Casey looked as if he had taken a bit out of an especially sour lemon. Sarah's hand with the weapon slowly sank. Vincent still crouched behind the couch and calculated his odds to take down both agents AND hinder Bartowski from carrying out his threat.

Chuck was sweating. "Sarah. You know I wouldn't lie to you. Trust me."

"Agent Walker!"

Her weapon clanked to the ground. Casey growled. Damn it, that moron stood right in front of this Fulcrum Bastard!

Vincent remained frozen in his position, hands closed around his guns. He had stopped trusting anyone a long time ago. Trust was not a very useful habit, when you sit in the lion's den! Did he make a mistake now, it could cost him literally everything. He pressed his lips together and felt the pain from the cut of Cadie's knife becoming more prominent. This was his last hope and no one would take it away from him! He shifted his weight, and then pushed the couch in front of him forward, simultaneously bringing Bartowski down and firing at the NSA agent on the staircase.

He missed Casey, because the agent let himself fall and rolled down the remaining steps. But Sarah didn't miss Vincent. A violent karate kick knocked him out.

…

"You did what?" Casey stared down at Chuck, who was leaning against the wall and rubbed the back of his head, where the couch had hit him.

"I swallowed it," he repeated superfluously and earned another growl. "I couldn't do anything. I'm sorry. I was hit in the back and automatically swallowed. I'm sorry."

Sarah shot her partner a glance and cowered down next to Chuck. "It's okay. You'll be fine."

Chuck tried to smile. Sarah's presence made everything better instantaneously. "How on earth did you find us?"

"It was relatively easy up to the village. Then we were simply lucky. An old woman from across the street asked us if we were interested as well in buying that house; and that already two other people were inside. She described you and -"

"Walker - we have no time for that! Fulcrum-"

"No. The Termites." Before Casey could wonder what he was talking about, Chuck turned toward Vincent, who lay on the ground, tied up with some rope. "He can explain!"

"Bartowski!" Vincent tried to stop him.

"They can help us. They're my friends."

Casey rolled his eyes to the ceiling. And Vincent wondered once again if Bartowski was that naïve or if he was especially smart…


	9. Close Encounter

*** In Nevada ***

The agents had loosened his ties, but the odds had shifted considerably to Vincent's disadvantage. He couldn't completely suppress a spike of anger and desperation. He had been so close! And now those idiots were about to destroy everything he'd achieved in the past days! Thankfully, Bartowski didn't tell all of his secrets. So there was still a small chance he could make it; a chance to could get rid of those agents! This time, he had to be extremely careful and cautious, because there wouldn't be a second try…

His gaze fell on the shards of a framed photograph that one of the shots had brought down. It showed a man with a little child on his lap. For one brief moment, Vincent was far away and Chuck saw a shadow of sadness flit over his features. Then, Casey's voice demanded their attention again.

"So, you're sure we'll find Orion there?" the agent asked and made a gesture toward the computer screen that showed the detail of a satellite photo from a nearby town.

"As I said", Vincent answered, "I've been monitoring Orion's movements for a long time. I've combined my research with the one your friend Bartowski did. And the late Mrs. Cadie was on his tracks as well. All our information points to that area in Robertstown."

"You could've followed a false track."

"I never did, neither did Bartowski. We only were not fast enough. This time, with the combined help of the CIA and the NSA we'd be more lucky, I suppose." Had this been irony or a hopeful statement.

Casey opted for the latter and sneered.

"The area is still too large for a commando style operation", Sarah said with a more professionally air. "We need to narrow it down."

"Well, sadly we weren't able to complete our calculations because of your interruption."

"How much time do we still have until the Termites will strike?" Sarah asked.

"A day at most. And even Orion needs time for a counter measure."

Chuck stared intently onto the screen. He felt the urge to proof himself useful. "Let's think about what he would need! A place with not too easy access and multiple exits. A good enough power source…"

Casey nodded "A basement, probably."

"But not too shielded to hinder him from tapping in wireless grids…"

"Okay, let's look at those houses again!"

Half an hour later, they had isolated the most likely hiding spot in sleepy Robertstown. A house that had once been a bank and that still possessed the thick walls in the basement, where the safe had been standing. In the adjoining building, AT&T had their spot. As far as it could be discerned from the satellite images, the ex-bank had a main entrance – of course, but also two rear exits, not to mention the windows in the second floor that provided access to the roof of a small building in the rear. All in all a pretty good place! The question remained if Orion was really there or if this was one of his diversions and IF he was there – would they be able to catch him? Once again, Vincent's eyes were on the shards of the photo_. I have to get Orion. This time, I HAVE to get him! _He stood up.

With a swift movement, Casey blocked his way. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Secure a chopper. There's a small airfield nearby. Unless you're able to fly…"

"I am", the agent answered. "And no matter what stories you've told Bartowski, I don't believe you and you'll stay under guard!"

Vincent displayed no emotion, as Casey took the plastic rope and tied his hands behind the back again. For now, he didn't bother. It was night and the airfield not very far to go. This had been one of the reasons he had chosen this outpost in the first place. If there was one thing he absolutely didn't need, it was contact with the authorities. He was sure he'd be able to handle those agents, but being "freed" by the police and/or arrested would've proven a major obstacle. However, obviously the locals had not heard – or not paid attention to – the gunfire some hours ago. He still considered suppressors one of the best inventions of all time! So there was no reason the police should interfere now in this little transfer to the airfield.

***** Later *****

Agent Casey had landed the helicopter on a nearby field and the unlikely team had managed the rest of the way by foot. Robertstown was a typically Nevadaen-outback place, not much busier than the village they had started their journey from. The main street had been pimped to attract tourists, but at this hour, every little shop and café was still closed. Their target building sat in an even quieter side street. Casey, Walker, Smith and a rather happy Chuck – because he was reunited with Sarah – took position in the windowless apartment of a run-down house nearby and waited. Casey kept a close eye on Vincent and his hand close to his gun. He still wasn't very comfortable with the weapons he had bought while catching up with Vincent and Chuck. They couldn't have been very picky, though. It only had been a small firearms store, they had no time and not enough money. And the owner had not been very impressed by a CIA or NSA ID card… Patriots were scarce those days, Casey thought once again while watching Vincent staring through the binocular.

There, he put the glasses down and turned back to the rest of the 'team'. "It's him."

"Sure?"

"Yes", he emphasized as if he spoke to an imbecile child. "Height, figure, posture, walk – it's all a 100 percent match."

Casey took the binocular himself, though, but now the man they had stalked for several minutes, was inside the building.

"We should act now", Vincent pressed. "I suggest you're covering the yard, agent Walker the roof. Bartowski will go in from the front, with me as back up." A moment passed. "You need to trust me. We don't have much time, do we?"

However, Casey was very reluctant to trust anyone after the disaster they just had been through with Cadie. And Sarah would've rather liked to see Chuck out of harm's way instead of posing him as bait! The seconds ticked by. It was early in the morning and it was the day of the Termite's supposed strike. They wouldn't wait until they had sorted things out here… Casey wished he could check back with General Beckman. But since the interruption one and a half days ago she had not called again, and he didn't dare to contact her because of the risk to expose the ongoing secret counter operation! Dammit! He wanted to execute his orders, do what was right – and now that probably meant to fully trust Smith?! That was one of the hardest decisions John Casey ever had to make!

"I can handle it", Chuck assured with a forced smile, and yet had to suppress the shiver in his voice.

Casey shot him a grumpy 'no one asked you, moron'-look, but Sarah nodded. "This is an exceptional situation. So we have to do the exceptional and just – hope it turns out well."

"I don't want to answer a court martial for delivering the long wanted weapon right into the hands of our enemy."

"Our common enemy is project Termite", Vincent said. "And something tells me they'll win because of your lack of decisiveness."

"We talk about decisiveness, when I'll hand you over to the police."

-"Chuck? Where do you think you're going?" That had been Sarah. And her glance rested on Chuck, who already stood some meters away.

"If you can't decide what to do, I'll go alone", he answered. "I want that thing out of my head, and this is my chance! I want my life back! I want … I want to be just a normal guy standing at the Buy More – help desk and getting annoyed about some stupid computer problem, do you understand? And besides, I don't want those terrorists win this game!"

Sarah sighed. Casey hissed. Vincent's brows rose for a second. "Let's move", Casey finally decided without giving embarrassment any chance. "I'll take the roof, Walker the yard. From up there, I can still have an eye on you, Smith, just in case you'll try something."

Vincent's features remained unreadable.

***** Shortly after *****

The house was a brick building, not in very good shape, and half empty. In the ground floor's corridor it was almost dark, because only one of the lights was still functioning. Chuck was unarmed, of course, but some steps behind him sneaked Vincent. Chuck felt uncomfortable. He had trusted the mysterious Orion weeks before, however, after his experiences the past days, after all he knew – or thought to knew – he wasn't sure anymore. His pulse raced. He really would've loved that Vincent went first… or Casey… or … no, not Sarah.

Another step forward and his approach came to a halt, as a bodyless voice demanded: "Stay where you are!"

"Orion?" He tried to discern anything ahead, but the corridor was too dark. The other man probably used a video surveillance system. The camera had to be well hidden somewhere. Chuck looked around to no avail. "It is me! Charles Bartowski!"

"I know."

Of course. He felt stupid. "I need your help."

A moment passed. "Are you alone?"

_You can't see Vincent? That man really has a talent for stealth! He must've melted with the walls like those aliens from Star Trek... What were they called? Suliban... yes..._ Chuck stared ahead, sweating. _I wish I'd were a Suliban myself. _"Yes", he finally managed after what seemed for him like an eternity. And yet Orion wasn't suspicious?!

"Step forward slowly", the voice commanded.

Chuck hesitated. A part of him just wanted to get over with this, but the other half was afraid. Would it be a good idea to comply? Or would a trap open below him or something nasty fall on his head with the next step? Or did such things only happen in the movies? Suddenly, there was a light in front of him. The small slid of a door. It got wider. Then, a man appeared. As the light grazed his features, Chuck froze for a second.

"D..Dad?" He whispered breathless.

That moment, the man named Orion caught a glimpse of the figure squeezing up in the shadows behind Chuck. "Vincent?" His voice was almost as surprised as Chucks.

"What? You thought me dead already? Killed by the ingenious invention of yours?" A quick movement to his left wrist by Orion made Vincent raise his Scorpion. "I wouldn't do that. From the position I stand and with the firepower of this little friend I'll kill both of you!"


	10. A tangled web

***** Nevada / Robertstown / Old Bank *****

Chuck stared at the man who just had emerged from the shadows, and still had trouble processing the truth. His father. Orion was his father! The man's eyes remained shaded; Chuck couldn't discern any emotion in his features. Did he even recognize him? His gaze at least seemed to be locked on Vincent.

"Bartowski! Step back to me!" Vincent barked. "Don't turn around!"

Chuck complied slowly, remembering all that junk that covered the floor. He didn't want to slip or stumble. Then he felt Vincent's breath in his neck – and in the same moment, Vincent's arm closed tightly around it, ripped him back into a painful embrace. Chuck gasped for air. Instinctively, he tried to break free. Instantaneously, a nauseating sound of cracking vertebrae filled his ears and he blacked out. With a quick move, Vincent pushed the motionless body aside.

"You monster!" Orion lunged forward. His chest collided with the muzzle of Vincent's gun and his glance with Vincent's icy glare. "I should never, never have taken you into my team back then!" Tortured, Stephen Bartowski looked down at the body of his son. "God, what have I done!"

"The wrong thing. – MOVE!"

…

Up on the roof of the old building, agent Casey swore loudly, as he saw Vincent emerge from the door, using another man as living shield. A man that no doubt was Orion. He couldn't fire from his position without killing HIM alongside with Smith. And Chuck was nowhere to spot! _Dammit, I knew that son of a bitch'll betray us! I knew it and let it happen! _That was the worst of all. He had walked into the enemy's trap! He, the vigilant NSA agent John Casey had fallen prey to a Fulcrum agent's devious lies! No, there was no way to shoot! Besides, the street around Smith and his new hostage started to fill with people. For a second Casey even thought to see a smile on his opponents face. It made him furious. Jumping to his feet, he alerted Sarah, who stood down in the yard as planned. Thankfully, she acted professionally, as she heard the unpleasant news.

"What about Chuck?" she asked out of breath a moment later, when she joined Casey inside the house.

"I don't know yet," he answered. Before he could speak out his dark musings, they discovered the body on the floor.

Sarah ran up to him, gently turned him on his back, and checked his pulse. "He's alive!" she said a moment later. Tears started to burn in her eyes and she blinked. She could not afford such behavior! Not in front of Casey, who now bent down next to her.

"Chuck? Do you hear me?" There were no wounds, nor bruises, no sign of any violence. Nonetheless, after the encounter with Cadie she knew that there were other possibilities to bring someone down! "Chuck?!"

He moaned and slowly opened his eyes. "Sarah…" Not out of the haze of unconsciousness yet, he smiled happily. Was she about to undress him… ? "Where are we?" But that bed was really … not very comfortable…

"Bartowski!"

Casey? Okay… there was something wrong with the love nest version… He tried to sit up, massaged his neck. His memories came back. "Vincent… ahhh… he tried to kill me. He's gone. He's gone, with Orion!"

"Yes."

Chuck struggled to his feet. "He's my father!"

"What are you talking about?" grumbled Casey and, full of surprise, listened to the answer. "Great. But we have no time for family stories. We need to catch up with Smith. I'm looking forward to ice him personally!"

Sarah still steadied Chuck, when her eyes fell on a glinting little something lying in between old paper and empty bottles. Cautiously, she took a piece of rotten wood to shove the object into the light. It didn't explode right away – that was good. It was a cell phone. Still very slowly and as cautiously as possible, Sarah lifted it up from the ground.

"It's Vincent's", Chuck recognized. "He must've lost it."

"Well, even the smartest criminal makes a mistake now and then!"

Casey smirked. "Fine. Let's have a look!"

"I'm sure it's encrypted", Chuck said. "But maybe-"

"Okay, Bartowski, get to work! Crack the thing!" Casey snatched the phone from Sarah's hand and tossed it to Chuck.

"But I… need some equipment… and … and some time!" _Everyone seems to think I'm a top-hacker!_

"Concerning the equipment, you'll have more than enough I suppose, but we're running out of time, sadly." The agent grabbed him by his shoulders and directed him towards the still open door leading to Orion's hiding place.

***** Flat Point Creek Air Force Base *****

The old Air Force Base had been awakened from its slumber. Dozens of feet trampled over the weeds that in the past years had bravely pushed through the concrete. Windows were opened to let fresh air into stale smelling dusty rooms. However, it wasn't the Homeland Defense that swarmed through the main building, busy reconnecting the decommissioned satellite dishes and setting up high-end computer interfaces. Outside in the yard, a convoy of cars just came to a halt. At this solemn day that was supposed to see their triumph, the men and women decorating themselves with the designation of "Fulcrum" had decided to reveal their faces to the public. The old structures, the old government – soon everything would be history and they were ready to take America into a bold new future! For now however, some awkward looks grazed over faces with thick glasses, balding heads and wrinkles – somehow, everyone seemed to have thought his fellow comrades of the inner ring as equipped with an equivalent super-human physical appearance! They looked so perfectly normal! They recognized each other by the code words, though.

"We're here in this God-forsaken dust bowl where he wanted us to be," a round faced bulky man said. "So, where IS Smith?"

A woman in black suit opened her mouth for an answer, but that moment, another voice reached them: "I'm here."

Eyes turned into the sound's direction and discovered Vincent entering through the western gate.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce Mr. Stephen Bartowski, aka Orion?" He nudged his prisoner forward.

"I told you he would make it in time", the woman now said, an arrogant smile flitting over her lips. "You would never disappoint us, would you, Vincent?"

"It is my honor to serve Fulcrum."

"I won't yield to anything you have in mind!" Stephen Bartowski's voice was coarse but firm, as was his glance.

"Well, we'd certainly regret having to apply harsher methods", the bulky council member said. "But the needs may overcome those regrets."

"I won't help you. You'll have to kill me!"

"We'll consider that option LATER," the woman answered icy, with a nod toward Vincent. "I'm quite sure someone's looking forward to this… As for now, get him to work!" She gestured to the henchman that had accompanied her in her car. The imposing muscle packed guy snatched Orion's arms.

"One small favor."

"Yes, Vincent?" She wasn't used to hearing him ask for favors. Normally, he was happy enough doing their dirty work. She had always mused how twisted a mind had to become to get satisfaction from these kinds of jobs.

"Let me go with him. I worked so hard for our success. Now that it's finally come, I want to see it take shape at close range."

She shrugged. Why not. One gun more trained at Orion was maybe not that a bad idea! She smiled full of anticipation. Only a few hours from now, their message would reach hundreds of thousands of people. And it would not even be necessary to convince anyone. Orion would spare America and later the world that choice! For a moment, she wondered how history would have evolved, had the great leaders and prophets of the past this mighty tool at their disposal! But history had waited for them. For her and her comrades! She held her head high, while she marched off to the old command center to witness the next step of evolution. Vincent and the bodyguard holding Stephen Bartowski vanished behind another door inside the building.

***** In Robertstown / Orion's hiding place *****

Casey paced nervously through the cramped space that was stuffed with books, electronics in various states of disassembly, printouts with source codes and technical designs. At one point, he almost stumbled over some cables and cursed loudly.

"Bartowski! Hurry up!"

How often he had been hearing that order during the past days, Chuck wondered. He sat in front of Orion's computer and just could not focus, despite Casey's constant pressing. _I'm sitting here at my Dad's computer. I can't believe it. My Dad. Orion. _Again, he stared at the old photograph that was pinned next to screen, instead of checking the code ON the screen. The photo showed him – probably six or seven years old - and his Dad at Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. He didn't remember that trip very well. _I just can't believe it. My Dad invented the intersect!_

-"How is it going?" Casey asked for the second time in the past ten minutes. Sarah shot him a glance, but she was just as nervous.

"I … uh… I'm about to get in. The code is only slightly different from the one I-"

"Just work!"

Chuck clenched his teeth. The code in front of his eyes started to blur again. _Will I ever get this thing out of my head? It had looked that good. I thought everything would be over today…. -What is this bracket here? This must be a substructure of the script. … It's really similar to Cadie's phone code… - Crap. This would never have happened if I hadn't believed Vincent! How on earth could I believe him? _

"Chuck?" Sarah's hand on his shoulder made him jump. "Do you want a glass of water?"

"No. No, I'm fine." He forced a smile. In fact, he felt like shit. It was his fault that Fulcrum had Orion. '_Fulcrum doesn't exist', haha. And I fell for it! _He typed the next number almost accidentally. But then… "I'm in!"

"Very good. Now Smith just needs to have left us a clue where to find him and his bunch of terrorist morons!"

"I'll check the messages." _Why is he supposed to have left a note? This is not a stupid tv-series! He's a pro. He'd never—_Chuck's thoughts stopped as he saw something popping up on the screen.

"What is it?" Sarah bent over to see better. "Flat Point Creek?"

Casey whirled around and stared at the screen as well. "It's an Air Force Base. A decommissioned one. Not so far away."

"If it's no longer in use, what's the point?" Chuck's innocent question earned him a grim look from both agents this time.

"They'll probably hijack it! – Let's go!" Casey grabbed his gun and his jacket.

"What if it's trap?" Experience had made Sarah particularly cautious, when things seemed to be too easy.

"Fulcrum has no reason to still bother with us." He was at the door already. "They have Orion and they think Chuck's dead. They're probably thinking about the big party right now. Well… I'm going to pee in their Champagne…" Casey's angry muttered words were swallowed by the dark corridor.

Now Sarah and Chuck followed him.

***** In Washington *****

It was still dark around her, but the stomping headache and the fact that she could smell – and it smelled awfully after junk, especially rotten fish – left General Diane Beckman no doubt that she was still alive. She had no idea how much time had passed since this traitor Stevenson surprised her in her office talking to Agent Casey. Maybe it was too late, whatever she did now. Maybe the enemy had won. The thought only paralyzed her for a moment. If Fulcrum had won THIS war, there would be others still to fight. There was always an option to fight back, move operations into the underground, build a resistance.

_Given I'll find a way out of here… _

She propped herself to her knees and started to feel for the walls of her prison.


	11. Countdown

***** A waste dump near Washington DC *****

Garbageman Jed, nicknamed Pepperoni or simply "Pep" because of his food preferences, waved his arms to his colleague in the crane that was about to grab the huge container.

"I tell you, there's something in there! I hear sounds… scratching and knocking!"

"Maybe cats again", his colleague answered. It was spring time and they just had rescued some baby cats last week. If he'd ever find one of those people, he knew what he'd love to do with them…

"Or a raccoon. – Okay, let me have a look! Let's open the damn thing!" The rusty metal squeaked and cracked while the upper hatch of the container was opened. Thankfully, it wasn't an especially stinky junk, but only the 'normal' kind of stuff coming from offices. While Pep climbed up to take a look inside, the crane operator already got a glimpse of a human arm amidst the junk. From his position, he couldn't exactly tell, if the junk was falling or the arm was moving. And immediately an ugly thought crossed his mind. One of the boys claimed he had found a corpse once – did that disputable honor now fall onto him as well?!

"Hey, Pep, don't-"

But he was already on top of the container and spotted the arm himself. And it was moving, no doubt. He bent down, shoved some trash aside and discovered more of the person that had been buried within.

…

General Diane Beckman tried hard to keep her dignity and military earnestness, while she sat at the wobbly table in the breakfast cabin of the garbagemen, wrapped in towels and still dripping water on the floor. As she didn't know what had happened during the past day she thought it safer not to call the authorities or the NSA. The enemy might in fact have overrun vital areas – even though the radio in the cabin didn't mention anything besides the usual drabble. But terrorists were unlikely to broadcast their plans BEFORE, weren't they?! So there seemed to be a small chance she still would be able to stop the bad guys!

"Excuse me, do you have a phone around here?" she asked.

"Yep, of course… Ma'am! I'll go and fetch it!" Pep said, turned around to a row of lockers, but then snapped back, holding the just opened beer can in Beckman's direction. "Do you want a cold beer, Ma'am?"

"No thank you", she answered as politely as possible. "The soda is enough for now. But I'd need that phone."

"Sure, sure!" For some minutes, he dug through his belongings, and finally handed her an antique Nokia phone.

"Thank you very much!" Beckman dialed the specific secret number that put her through directly to the Oval Office. Some time passed. She sincerely hoped the President wasn't at some meeting or jogging in the garden! But finally the familiar voice reached her, already alarmed because she had used the emergency number…

The astonished Pep the garbageman heard things like "National Security compromised", "Arrest Stevenson immediately" , "Asap top clearance meeting", everything eventually crowned by a "Yes, Mr. President!" He wondered if he was probably in one of these Candid-Camera shows… Or if maybe that "24"-Marathon last weekend hadn't been that a good idea…

***** Flat Point Creek Airforce Base *****

Stephen Bartowski had been chained to the desk in the old operations central. The space in front of him was occupied by four computers, screens and various other high-end equipment. On the main screen spread bits and pieces of the intersect source code, useless so far. But they waited for him to finish the giant puzzle of which only he, Orion, knew the code of completion. On another screen, he saw life footage from different corners of the country, showing eagerly waiting adepts of the new age. He shivered and clenched his fists.

"You should start working, Mr. Bartowski." The icy voice of the woman startled him, but he didn't turn around. "You have already lost your son; wouldn't it be a pity of you'll lose your daughter as well?"

His stomach cramped. _I wasn't hiding well enough, not far enough! I didn't go far enough to protect them!_

"The faster you work, the faster you're reunited with your loved ones. See it that way!" She placed a memory chip in front of him. "This is the contribution from one of our members. You remember Ted Roarke?"

Stephen felt yet sicker and angrier.

"He can't wait to see the truth blossom, just as I do. And just now he's paying your daughter a friendly visit… So… get to work!" Her last words were whispered into his ear. Then he heard her high heels clack away. He stared at the chip, the data on the screen. His mind was empty.

Behind him, the "bouncer"-type growled: "Get to fucking work! It's fucking hot in here and I don't wanna sit here forever!"

A desperate thought crossed Stephen's mind. _Maybe, if I enrage those watchdogs enough that one of them kills me? It might not work with Vincent, though… but that other guy… that other guy seems nervous and angry and easy to provoke. God help me! _"And what do you think you'll get in reward once this is over?"

"Stop talking!"

"Do you think they share anything with the likes of you?"

"What's that supposed to mean, eh?!" Slowly, the bulky man rose from his chair. "Getting smart?!"

"Do you really think they pay you the big bucks? Oh, you don't know those people. For them, you're a no-brainer, someone they laugh about. And you-" A hairy hand grabbed Stephen's shoulder and he involuntarily fidgeted.

"Calm down, man." Vincent stepped in between. "You can finish him after he's done here."

"Watch out I'm not finishing YOU first!" the "bouncer" hissed.

"What about fetching some water, before we start to melt? I saw a box with bottles standing the in the next floor, right behind the entrance door."

The grumbling continued for a few more seconds, but then he huffed loudly, just as a volcano that finally erupts in an explosion of only vapor. "Okay. And I'll have a smoke, too."

Vincent nodded and gestured to the door. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on the professor."

A moment later the door closed behind his companion and Vincent took his seat again, looking around casually before fixing his glance at Stephen's back. Two of the computers were equipped with webcams to monitor Orion and thus, the things going on in his back as well. Vincent estimated their angle and then, without looking, he retrieved a tiny device from his trouser's pocket. Carefully, his index finger moved over the controls in the silvery casing. A little blue light started to blink.

And suddenly, the content on Stephen's main screen started to change… the code froze, a new window detached from its center, filling its empty blackness with new text. And the man codenamed Orion stared, held his breath… and then whirled around to face Vincent. Pure astonishment.

Vincent's suppressor equipped H&K targeted him. "Get to work!" His voice was as stone cold as his glance.

***** An apartment in Charleston *****

The five people had acquired the empty apartment to set up their base. On the outside, a sign still tried to attract new tenants. One of the heavily armed men stood guard next to the window, the other next to the door. Their three companions sat on camping tables in the middle of the room, focused on their laptops.

"Dammit! I can't get in!" One of them murmured in his native Kenyan dialect.

"What?" The guy from the door asked in Arabic.

"Can't get access!" He repeated, now in Arabic as well. The other two cyber terrorists nodded. "It's somehow blocked. We tried the access codes Stevenson gave us but-"

"That bastard double crossed us!" A long nasty, especially colorful Arabic curse followed. "Never should've trusted a man who's ready to betray his country for money!" He spit onto the floor. "Can you hack in SOMEHOW?"

"I already tried," a young, fair haired man answered. He was a math genius originating from Bosnia and one of the most valuable members of the organization. "Every time I manage to slip something into the network, it is nullified a few seconds later! It's… it's… I've never seen something like that before! As if someone's waging a counterattack right now, spread across the whole network! All my access points are blocked!"

"That's not possible!" The boss grabbed him, yanked him away from the table, took a look himself and was – of course – just as helpless, when the command lines deleted themselves and were replaced by other code frame work. He cursed again. "And Ismal is in the air already! – Majid, give me that radio unit!"

"But we can't contact him now! If the network isn't down, the NSA will monitor every frequency!"

"TRY to bypass the mainframe! Dammit! TRY something!"

***** Meanwhile / Near Washington DC *****

The small aircraft approached the suburbs of the Capital. Inside, a black clad assassin named Ismal waited impatiently for the lights of the city to go out. He shot a glance at his watch. They were damned close already and still nothing had happened! He wondered if he was about to be set up by his own comrades… Nervously, he checked his night vision gear and arms again. The parachute was fine as well. Only the announced black out was missing!

***** In Nevada *****

Agent Casey sped on, the police car with its shrieking alarm siren close at his wheels. He tried to shake him for minutes now, but the officers had remarkable driving skills! Casey had stolen the sports car right from under the nose of its owner and they drove way above the regular velocity. But what choice did they have?!

"Maybe we … could stop and explain everything", Chuck said from the rear seat, both hands clasped around the grips at the doors. "I mean, we're the good guys!"

"We don't have time for that! Every minute we lose because we have to explain something to somebody and he checks back and forth with his superiors or OUR superiors gives the enemy more time to pull it through! AND, if the NSA is compromised as well, we'd alert the enemy!"

"Look out! Construction site!" Sarah yelled.

Casey veered out just in time, took a short cut through the greenery – the car made a tortured sound – and ended up on the exit they were heading to in the first place. He could only hope the police wouldn't install a road block ahead… If he recalled correctly, Flat Point Creek was only a few miles away now. They needed to cross some space – and some fences!

***** Flat Point Creek Air Force Base *****

Vincent heard steps approaching the operations central. So his companion was coming back! He stood up, took position right behind the door; in the narrow gap between the two webcams on the computers. The door opened and the other man felt the hard punch of a suppressor in his chest. The split of a second later he collapsed in Vincent's arms. He lowered him down, still taking care not to get into the camera's range and closed the door again.

Stephen took a deep breath.

"My son … isn't dead, is he?" he asked, turning around to see what was happening behind him.

Vincent cracked a smile. "I hope he and his friends are catching up with us right now. I left him a clue. – Focus on your work! We don't have much time until they figure out what you're doing!"

"You could've just told me!"

"I needed it to look convincing." Vincent answered while placing his various firearms and additional ammo in a strategic circle around his position behind the door. "And you've never been a very good actor! - Have you isolated the Trojan they use?"

"I'm inserting a destructive sequence into their code right now. But they're still on it. Who are those guys?"

"Project Termite. The real, dangerous, Fulcrum. They cut a deal with an islamist terror faction this year. I procured the code from one of their agents!" Again, steps could be heard from the corridor. Hasty ones this time. Vincent got his weapon ready. "I hope a little crossfire doesn't interrupt your focus."


	12. Just in Time

***** Flat Point Creek Air Force Base / Operations Central *****

The door had fallen under the continuing fire of the enemy a few minutes ago. Now Vincent cowered behind the remains, shooting whenever he spotted a movement in front of him in the corridor.

"Status?" he hissed without turning to Stephen Bartowski.

"They've figured out what I'm doing… Someone's trying to block me…I think-" A shot reached the room and smashed into the screen to his left.

"I'm almost down to my last clip," Vincent replied. _And that never happened to me before; I don't like it!_

"I try to get access to one of the drones and-"

"Forget that! Just kill that Trojan!" Another shot ripped the remains of the door further apart. Splinters splashed and Vincent felt blood running down his cheek. The pain only set in a couple of seconds later. He was out of ammo and fumbled for his last clip.

Stephen cursed. "That's it. I've been disconnected from the satellite!"

_Then it's time for a tactical retreat…_ Vincent forced himself not to think about the consequences if Orion had been disconnected too soon. "See that cover panel below your desk? Get it open!"

Stephen was on all fours very quickly, because a new series of shots reached the room! He ripped at the hatch to no avail, then grabbed it with both hands, but still it didn't move.

"Hurry up!"

"Can't get the damned thing—ah, got it!" Panting, Stephen peered inside the dark hole of the old service shaft. "Where does it end up?"

"Servicetunnel. Right above an old bunker. I chose this place for a reason!" Vincent fired and brought an all-too-careless enemy down. The body gave a bit additional cover, but only so much.

"I don't think I'll fit-"

"Down with you!"

***** In the meantime / Outside on the area of the base *****

Chuck and the two agents had arrived a few minutes ago. So far, no one had seen them sneaking up to the fence and making their way through it. Casey lay belly pressed against the concrete on top of one of the flat buildings and screened the area through his binocular. Judging after his crunching teeth, it didn't look especially good for their little rescue operation.

"They're all over the place. And they have considerable firepower." His view switched from one heavily armed buddy to another. They were very seriously outgunned!

"What about that thing over there?" Sarah whispered. Casey turned his head and his eyes followed her gesture. Barely to see behind high grass and straggly thorn bushes, he discovered a half rotten metal pipe. "Could be a ventilation shaft to an underground structure – what do you think?"

"I think we're going to find out!" The agent crawled backwards and jumped down to the others a moment later.

They moved forward and Chuck tried not to fall behind. He also tried to make himself useful somehow – in keeping an eye on the enemy, for instance - but all he achieved was stumbling over a stone and landing on his knees. _It's all my fault, _he thought again. _I'm a naïve moron, just as Casey says. _Maybe he was just like his friend Morgan and the other guys from the nerd-herd. A genius when it came to computers and programs and games, but not fit for real life and its dangers. _And I thought winning Sarah! Who am I kidding?! I'm just a laugh—_

"Bartowski! Watch out, dammit!"

Almost, he had run into the ventilation pipe.

***** Down in the bunker *****

Vincent had closed the service shaft behind them, but the two fugitives had no doubt it would be discovered sooner or later. As fast as possible, they had made their way down, through rusty metal grids that almost dissolved into dust after a strong kick.

"That was number four," Vincent said, hanging right above Stephen, hands clasped around old cables. "Below the next one, the bunker is supposed to be."

Steadied with his back against the wall, Stephen kicked against the plate under his feet. It broke after three attempts and clattered down in the darkness below. Vincent adjusted his micro flashlight. Its pale shine danced over the outlines of dust covered empty boards and a table. "Let's go!"

Stephen let go, fell more than he jumped and painfully grazed the table with his left arm. He squeezed his eyes, tried to master the pain. The dust made him cough. _Shit. I'm in no shape to outrun that bunch of crazy killers probably coming after us that very moment! … Oh God, what are they going to do with Ellie? _He covered his face, feeling exhausted. _I've killed my daughter… _

Vincent's voice shattered his cocoon of miserable thoughts. "Get up!"

"I … was just thinking about Ellie …" He struggled to his feet. "Perhaps she's…" He broke off and shook his head. "You think that'd be the right punishment for me, don't you?"

"It crossed my mind. Let's MOVE!"

"You've become a bitter man, Vincent." They headed into a corridor with more empty boards and spider webs hanging from the ceiling like veils.

"I've lived with the knife at my throat the last seven years," he answered without turning around. "I had to kill half a dozen people in order not to give away myself and I have a police record as thick as a phone book. I had to break contact with my family. And that ingenious invention of yours made me march towards insanity with accelerated steps!"

"I didn't know about those side effects!" Stephen breathed deeply and paid with another cough because of the omnipresent dust. "I didn't … I was … so overwhelmed by the possibilities … I guess I simply blindfolded myself." He wasn't the first scientist in history falling prey to that kind of seduction. But it didn't help right now to have company!

"You opened Pandora's box. But you were in the rare position to make an attempt to close it again." Vincent opened a steel door with a precise shot and continued: "Let's hope you've managed it, Project Termite is history and your son and his agency friends are fast and smart enough to cope with those knuckle heads upstairs!"

***** The apartment in Charleston *****

The small group of cyber terrorists had become increasingly nervous. Their boss paced on and off, occasionally shot a cautious glance out of the window and then another one at his watch. The math genius from Bosnia mumbled curses in his mother language.

"I can't get in! It's no fucking use; I'm blocked EVERYHWERE!" He said, finally capitulating.

"I'm getting some suspicious stuff over the police radio," another of his comrades warned, dragging off his headphones. "This does not look good…"

The boss lost his nerves. "We pack up and hit the road! Get up! Move! MOVE!"

"What about Ismal?! We can't just leave him up there! We need to get him back! Hey, listen to me Chalid, man, we can't-"

The boss grabbed him, pushed him against the wall. "I say we go! Don't make fuzz, or I'll spare the Americans the task to kill you! Get your stuff!"

Masjid had not just anyone up in the air on the way to kill the President, though! Ismal was his brother. He burst in outrage, tried to get a hold of Chalid's Automatic – and was shot before any of the others could step in between. Now they had one reason more to vanish very quickly from this neighborhood!

„Anyone else eager to make his point?" Silence. Shock in the men's faces. "Good." Chalid took his suitcase, opened it. "Here are your new passports and the tickets. I've never seen anyone of you!" Next, he retrieved a small package of explosives, placed it on the table amidst the computer equipment, connected it to a time fuse and armed it.

Ten minutes later, as the terrorists hurried to different means of transportation, the little apartment went off in a ball of fire.

***** Meanwhile – Airspace over Washington DC *****

Ismal sweated. He wiped his face, licked his lips and tasted the salt. They were past the dropping point for two minutes now, and still the lights of the US capital were shining brightly. The electricity and thus all the security measures were intact! Something had gone terribly wrong. He checked his watch again. What was he supposed to do? Contact Chalid? He had been ready to sacrifice his life for the cause; he had pledged allegiance to the death. But now… Contrary to every arrangement, he took his cell phone and tried to reach his boss. No connection available. Fear crept up in Ismal. He seemed too have been abandoned. So what was he supposed to do? However, before he could reach a decision whether or not he should just jump and try to get out of the country as quickly as possible, the noise of chopper rotors approached. Panicking, he stared out and discovered at least two helicopters in close range. He didn't have time to wonder what they were up to.

"Attention! MPPD speaking! You're in restricted airspace!" The radio announced. "Prepare to be escorted to the nearest airfield! We will open fire in case you don't comply immediately!"

…

Just when the little plane touched down, surrounded by a huge deployment of the Metropolitan Police and special forces, the Bosnian math genius walked into a local police station miles away in Charleston and turned himself in. "I'm a member of a terrorist organization. I demand witness protection, and I'll tell everything."

***** Nevada / Flat Point Creek Base / Bunker *****

Vincent and Stephen were still running toward what Vincent meant to be the old exit of the Cold-War-bunker from the late Sixties. A few minutes ago they had heard voices in the distance. So they clearly weren't alone anymore.

"We're not going to make it," Stephen said, out of breath.

"You don't have much confidence in your son and his agency friends."

Stephen looked at him, not sure what to answer. _The boy is like me. Too much like me. A dreamer…_

"He's a good kid," Vincent continued instead. "Too little self confidence, a bit clumsy… but … he's inventive and brave. Very brave."

Stephen opened his mouth, but the words got stuck in his throat, when they reached the next corner. There, bent down and broken struts awaited them. Gravel and dirt covered the floor. Yet more steps ahead, the passage was blocked completely. Stephen sighed exhausted and shook his head.

"Seems our flight is over, at last."

"Probably happened during one of the flash floods in spring." Vincent looked around, if there was any way through or around the barrier. However, the voices from the others already sounded much closer than minutes ago. Vincent checked his ammunition. Two bullets left!

"Maybe we should kill ourselves – spoils them the fun at least!" Stephen leaned his back against one of the damaged struts. He had thought to sound sarcastic, but it rather sounded deadly serious.

"You're still a valuable asset with priceless information in your head," Vincent answered. "I'm the one who has become useless junk. – But they won't reach the garbage can unless they pay a price! – Get down, behind that strut!" With that, Vincent knelt down, just as on a shooting range, both hands closed around his gun, targeting ahead. "We still have a chance."

Only seconds later, three silhouettes in another pale shine of light showed up at the end of the corridor. Chuck? Stephen blinked and squeezed his eyes.

"Drop your weapon, Smith!" Casey's order echoed through the bunker.

"Where's my Dad? What did you do to him?!"

"I'm okay!" Stephen steadied himself and slowly moved out of his cover, hands up, just in case. "I'm fine! Don't shoot!"

"Good to see you," Vincent added. "At some point I was afraid you wouldn't make it in time!" Slowly, he lowered his gun and placed it on the ground.

However, Casey and Sarah were trained to be cautious! Any lapse of alert could prove fatal.

"It's okay!" Stephen repeated and a moment later, he pulled his son into his arms. Now Sarah let her gun sink, and finally even Casey followed her example.

"You have a hell of an explanation to give!"

…

"I needed their network", Vincent said, as the little group moved into the direction of the ventilation shaft Chuck and the agents had used a few minutes ago. "And I had no time for any explanations. We were running out of time. There was no other way."

Chuck and Sarah exchanged a glance and a knowing smile. Casey frowned. Yes, they'd had their share of 'no time for explanations'! Half of the highway police was probably after them!

"Besides, I don't think you would've trusted me enough to let me walk into a presumable Fulcrum base with Orion."

"I'd probably have shot you", Casey stated.

"I couldn't risk that, could I?"

They had reached the rusty ladder to the upper level, from where the metal pipe was leading to the surface.

"Uh, folks, couldn't we just get out first and discuss later?" Chuck asked.

Vincent agreed. "He and I still have some unfinished business and-"

-"UNFINISHED BUSINESS is a nice way to put it." The female voice was supported by the barrel of a semi automatic rifle pointing down at them from above this very moment. "Drop your weapons!"

Chuck thought he really had heard this particular demand often enough for one day. Having nothing to drop, he raised his hands even before the woman – one of this secte's inner council – ordered it.

"Now … you!" She gestured to Stephen. "Get up slowly! Hands to the ladder! Fine… one false move and your friends are dead!"

Stephen complied. There was no other option. Chuck pressed his lips together and watched how his father slowly climbed up. _If I weren't who I am, I'd come up with an awesome idea to save him_, he thought_. I'd do some martial arts – whatever! It's just not fair! I find my Dad, I find Orion, I'm that close to get rid of this thing in my head and then - ! _He looked to Sarah. _At least we're going to die together … are we going to die? I don't want to die… just yet…_

-"Drop your weapon!"

_Not again…_

A metallic clunk. The gun barrel had vanished from the opening. Stephen didn't move. Chuck tilted his head and now, the dark blue of a police officer's uniform moved into his field of view.


	13. Epilogue

***** Epilogue: California *****

Chuck sat outside the house on a bench in the little patio, looked up to the nightly sky, smelled the scent of the nearby Pizzeria and felt wonderful.

"I still can't believe it's over," he finally said, glancing to Sarah. She leaned against the tree next to him and was so close that he almost sensed the warmth of her body. "Only thirty seconds – and the intersect was gone! It was … so simple! He only pushed a button and-"

"-You had your life back, and I've lost my job!" Sarah completed. She had tried to make a joke, but the sound of her voice betrayed her feelings in this matter. Chuck didn't need a handler anymore, no one to protect the values in his brain. She'd get a new assignment. Far away, probably.

"I hope… we can stay … uhm… friends." Suddenly, his throat was dry. "Good friends, I mean, if you…" He stopped, as Sarah had bent down and was kissing him. For a couple of minutes, the world consisted only of the two of them drifting in a cloud of happiness.

Later, Sarah sat down at his side. While she thought about arranging her future, the CIA and everything, Stephen Bartowski stepped out of the door and waved to them. From inside the house, the happy laughter of the rest of the family reached them.

"I'm so happy my sis is okay," Chuck said and his father nodded.

"Me too. I should've known it, though. Roarke has always been a coward. He was able to steal other people's researches, but he isn't a killer." Stephen inhaled deeply. "He sat here and played family visit, while I already saw my little girl dead…!"

"He can think about that the next years when he's serving his time," Sarah said. "Just like the rest of that Fulcrum sect and those terrorists of project Termite."

"I heard that Stevenson guy broke down in tears when he was arrested."

"That won't help him. The charges he's facing include high treason and conspiracy to kill the President."

Again, Ellie's voice sounded toward them.

"Are we going to tell her, one day?" Chuck asked.

"I think it is better for all of us if we stick to the original version", Sarah replied.

"The 'Crazy gamer kidnapped Chuck to get the latest cheats for Combat Force Bravo'?"

"Yes." Sarah smiled.

That had been Beckman's idea; the one that had been told the authorities as they started the search for Chuck. They couldn't expose everything from the intersect to Fulcrum to every secret government operation, could they?! It was only natural that the conversation now turned to the brave NSA – General.

"How's she doing, by the way?"

"As far as I know, the President almost had to force her into vacation," Sarah said. "After what happened lately, she was even more eager to work and close the security gaps Stevenson and the Termites had tried to exploit. – However, she now has the best assistant she could wish for!"

"Yeah! But Casey didn't look too happy when he got the promotion and the new assignment!"

"Mr. Grumble is his middle name, you know him, Chuck. Of course he's going to miss the work in the field. In the end, he deserves it, though!"

Stephen strolled through the patio and enjoyed this evening as much as Chuck and Sarah. It was the first evening in years he would spend free from regret and sorrow and fear. Yesterday, he had destroyed all his remaining files from project intersect. Of course, Beckman had asked him in the name of "his love for this country" to hand over everything so it could be stored safely. But the safest thing to hinder his research from falling into the wrong hands was to delete the data. So that was, what he had done. Maybe someone else came up with similar ideas and solutions, given the time they lived in. However, Orion wouldn't be a part of this anymore. Orion was dead.

"Hey!" Ellie had opened the door and her glance wandered over the people in the patio. "Dessert's ready! Do you want to come back in or shall I serve outside?"

"We're coming!" Stephen yelled.

Arm in arm all three of them walked back to the house.

Chuck took a seat at the festive table, laughed at a joke 'Captain Awesome' made and suddenly wondered how Vincent was doing. Maybe, he thought, it would've been nice to have him here for this party. "Dad, did you hear anything from Vincent?"

"No. He has used his talent to vanish again, and this time with full cover from the government. – Oh, that strawberry sauce really looks delicious!"

***** Switzerland*****

The exclusive Swiss boarding school sat idyllically in a garden overflowing with flowers, the snow covered peaks of the Alps as backdrop. It was too nice, too orderly, to clean to be real – at least in the opinion of the man just leaving the cab that had brought him here. Vincent felt out of place. Like a dirty mine worker in an upper class ball room. He caught himself scanning the people busy with their daily errands and was glad to wear dark sunglasses. He had gotten rid of the intersect, but he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to skip those habits he had been forced to adopt over the last years. And there were the memories sticking to him. That other life, that other man, would always be a part of him, cling to him like a dark aura. He really felt uncomfortable, out in the open, without any weapons.

_Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to come back. How on earth do you tell a fourteen-year old, that her supposedly dead father had been recruited by the NSA, then worked on his own for years to undermine a criminal organization?! Maybe it's better not to re-open old wounds…_

"May I help you?"

Vincent realized he was standing at the gate of the school, and an elderly woman with a big folder in her arms faced him. For an instant, he was tempted to just ask for the town hall and walk away. He was surprised himself, when he said: "I'm here to visit one of the students, Miss Becky Smith."

"I'll escort you to the principal's office, Mister…"

"Smith. I'm her father."

The teacher frowned. Obviously, she knew about the American orphan girl with the very protective "distant relative" that had wanted to place her in this exclusive, especially secured school. Well, there were only about a hundred children here, all of them with high ranking politicians or military as parents.

…

Vincent had to spend over an hour in the principal's office, first, for a background check, and then simply waiting in the adjacent room, because the kids were just writing a test. More time to ponder if it was right what he was about to do…. More time to rehearse his story… He had browsed in one of the newspapers lying on the desk and was startled, when the door opened again.

"Good morning, Mr. Smith!" A grey haired man stretched his hand. "I'm Mr. Wendorff, your daughter's class teacher. She'll be here with you in a couple of minutes."

"Thank you."

"She might react … well, maybe not as you imagined. A child needs time to adjust to new situations, please give her that time."

"Of course. I know it won't be easy."

The teacher sat down with him. "I've been told that you've been a prisoner of a Taliban group for almost six years. It must've been a terrible experience…" It was obvious that the teacher wanted to do a little check up and testing for himself.

"Something I don't wish anyone to see. That's why I wanted to complete rehab, before I come for Becky. I've bought a house in California lately and … I thought we could use the next months to get to know each other better and make a few preparations, before she joins school again. I've heard she's quite a good student."

"Nonetheless, there are a lot of changes-"

"I'll take care of her, believe me. She's all what's left of my life before - I certainly don't intend to lose her or harm her in any way." It knocked at the door. Vincent tensed. _I should've left her alone…_ he thought one last time. Then his daughter stood in the room and stared at him. And he stared at her. _Oh God, she looks so much like Valery … I could not even come to her funeral … shit. Seven years of my life, our life, just-_

"Pa?" Becky made a step forward, tried to attune the faded image in her memory with the man standing in front of her and – the next moment she embraced him. "I KNEW you weren't dead! I KNEW it! I KNEW you would come back, some day!"

Vincent couldn't get a word out. He just held her close and was glad the teacher finally left to give them some privacy. He didn't like anyone seeing him cry.


End file.
